#the fact that it was ENDEAVOR who ruined everything and this remains now as nothing but a dream 🙂

[galaxy-fleur]

˗ˏˋ Thoughtful Care ˎˊ˗

Pairing: RE2R!Leon/gn!reader. Summary: After escaping the hell on Earth that was Racoon City, you are now stuck in a dingy motel room that will be your safe haven for the time being. As you and your little group try to get your bearings together, you get a chance to spend some much-needed alone time with Leon after your eventful night together. As it turns out, tending to one's wounds is a more intimate experience than you thought. Word Count: <17k words; AO3 link. Notes: One use of Y/N, switching POV, some mutual pining, kissing, you take care of Leon's wounds, brief discussion of Ada, Claire and Sherry cameo. Credit: divider by @/saradika-graphics.

Life is a mysterious thing. You haven't ever considered yourself to be someone particularly special. You were always just an ordinary person, with a pretty ordinary life, and ordinary problems someone your age would typically be dealing with. You never once thought of that as something worthy being upset about. Being ordinary meant having your life in order. It meant that your daily routine was comfortable for you. Pleasant. Safe. Small daily problems that keep your mind occupied are really not appreciated enough. There is a very fragile feeling of peace in worrying over not being late to work tomorrow, or what to buy for lunch.

A very fragile feeling of peace that was forever broken for you in a single, horrible night.

You definitely never anticipated yourself to end up in the middle of some deadly outbreak straight out of a horror movie. Sure, you may have joked around with friends on how you would do in a horror story once or twice, but that was the extent of it. Jokes. Make-belief. You can indulge in fantasies about anything while you are safe and sound, however insane those fantasies may be. It's a completely different story when you are suddenly forced to shoot someone who is neither dead nor alive.

There were some that you even recognized.

A cute baker boy you remember complimenting on his new haircut during your visit to Racoon City a few months back.

A young teacher fresh out of college who shared many meaningful conversations with you near the Orphanage.

An elderly neighbor you once helped cross the street, after which he kindly invited you for tea next time you'll come to visit.

A promise that was never to be fulfilled now. And realizing that you would probably end up among them if you didn't move out of the city was... chilling, to say the least. 

Racoon City, once a place of many fond memories for you, has now become nothing but a living, gruesome nightmare that you will likely never forget. A part of you still wonders how you even managed to keep yourself alive through it all in the first place. But, somehow, you did. In part, due to a very fortunate encounter with a rookie cop who seemed to have arrived in the city not long after you. You barely spent a day in there, yet it felt like a lifetime. But despite everything fate threw your way, you two remained united, only briefly forced apart from each other, but ultimately rejoined again.

At the end of the day, it felt good to at least not be alone in this. To know that someone has your back. Heck, even simply having someone there to talk to made things just a tiny bit easier. Navigating the blood-stained corridors of the ruined Police Station on your own would have made you lose your mind for sure.

Survival is not a pretty nor heroic endeavor. You've lost people. In fact, you'd say that you've lost way more than you've saved. Your heart has been permanently stained by witnessing so much senseless death and violence in such a short time. At least you have shared this awful stain with Leon. And it's always easier to share a burden than to carry it alone.

In the end, while you didn't achieve anything world-changing or save the city, you managed to escape together, relatively safe and sound. Despite being battered, covered in blood and grime, you two at least have the privilege of living another day. One that not many share, sadly.

You even managed to reunite with a pair of other survivors along the way - Claire and Sherry - who clearly had their own stories of shared survival to tell. So, you all made the decision to stick together from then on. Each of the four of you with their own scars to bear, whether physical or mental.

Tired, and a bit lost on what to do next, you all decided to spend the day at the nearest shabby motel. To get some much-needed rest before deciding on what to do next. Not the most ideal of places, but after the night you had, a clean bed to sleep in and a safe room with no metallic stench of blood clinging to your nostrils, was more than enough to feel relieved. Although it was rather cramped with all four of you huddling to share the compact space you've been given. But it was also an undeniable source of comfort to not be alone. Furthermore, your body was so utterly exhausted that you couldn't really afford to be picky.

In fact, you're pretty sure that you blacked out as soon as your head hit the pillow. All four of you shared that same sentiment, it seems. You all slept through the entire day and most of the night, your drained minds and bodies hungry for precious hours of peace and safely. 

When next morning came, Claire went out with Sherry to get breakfast for you all from the nearest diner, while you and Leon stayed back together in the motel. It was definitely... strange. It was strange to share so much with someone you've only met about about a day ago. Though, considering that you spent the entirely of the last day sleeping, it pretty much felt like yesterday. You met Leon having no prior knowledge of him whatsoever. He wasn't even from Racoon City. You couldn't have known him if you've tried. Yet, the shared experience of survival side by side made you feel closer to him than to some of your friends back home.

Human minds work in mysterious ways.

So, here you are now, stuck all alone with Leon, for the first time since you reunited with Claire on the train. To avoid any unwanted awkwardness, you decide to break the silence at last.

"So...How'd you sleep?"

With a small yawn, Leon stirs in his bed and shifts onto his side. He slept the longest out of all you. Knocked out cold and waking up only approximately ten or so minutes ago. He's still rubbing at his bleary eyes, clearly not fully awake despite his efforts to appear alert for you. Given that he was also the one in the worst shape among you all, no one really blamed him for it. As the morning sun trickles through the shutters, light streaks across his face, painting his features into soft shades of red and yellow. It's a cute look on him, in a way. Though you don't linger on that thought too much. He examines the dimly lit room for a moment, almost like he needs a moment to remember how he got here in the first place, before his eyes settle on you standing by the window.

You kept the shutters down on purpose, to keep the morning sun away, making the room appear rather dark, aside from long stripes of bright yellow from the sunlight stubbornly peeking through. Though, it's definitely a first for you to find such comfort in a motel room, of all places.

Leon rolls over onto his back with a small, pained grunt, propping himself up slightly with his good arm. His voice is muffled and groggy as he answers, and you smile to yourself at the sound of it, stiffling a snort: "Honestly... Can't really complain. This might be the best sleep I've had in a while, all things considered."

"Well, I guess at least some of us are well-rested," you say, indirectly referring to your own rather worn out state despite the good 15 hours of sleep you got. You appreciate the cleanliness of the fresh air coming from the window for another short moment, inhaling with your full chest to fill your lungs to the brim. Compared to the foul stench of blood and rot you had grown a tolerance for now, even the somewhat dusty air from the curb felt like you were breathing on top of the cleanest mountain. But, you step away and sit back down on the other bed next to Leon's, leaning back on your palms comfortably. "Claire and Sherry are out to get us all some breakfast. We decided not to wake you."

Leon sits up and gently stretches out his shoulders, wincing slightily at the motion. No wonder, considering the huge, bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Despite your effort to appear nonchalant, he quickly recognizes the weariness etched onto your features, and looks over at you with a genuinely sympathetic expression from what you could tell.

You look away, disappointed that he somehow read you like a book.

It's bizarre, having someone you had basically just met feel so relaxed with you. Usually, it takes you at least a few weeks to develop this level of friendliness with someone. Then again, not like you go through what you went through the night before with everybody. After all, you already knew that Leon was good. There was no need to be cautious around him. None that you knew of, at least. That, and he seemed way more outspoken than you, anyway. A bit too trusting and naive, too. Especially for a cop.

"What about you? You didn't sleep too well or something?" Leon asks with a hint of trepidation in his voice. While a part of you is still a bit annoyed at his keen perception of you, you suppose you can't really blame him either. Given that he's likely dealing with the same thing you do.

Though, despite all that happened, he and Claire were much more optimistic than you.

Either way, you give him a small, dismissive shrug and run your hand over your hair, your nose wrinkling at the unpleasant feel of it. It's dry and matted under your touch. Even with your best efforts to get yourself back into shape yesterday, your hair was still far from its ideal state. Not like you had access to your usual haircare products in here. You probably still look rather messy. You also find yourself wondering if you'll have to get a trim on it when you go back home. Maybe this whole ordeal was the universe's twisted way of telling you to get a change of style or something.

Leon gaze is still trained on you, his eyes peering straight into your soul. That's how it felt, at least. No matter how hard you try, the weary look in your eyes and slight sag in your shoulders are the dead giveaway that you are, indeed, still tired. But he doesn't address the issue. Much to your relief.

"Eh, I'm fine. I got some sleep," your response is somewhat aloof, and you know it. But your lack of sleep isn't your only worry here, after all. "I'm glad you got some rest, though."

"Yeah... I sure needed it," Leon sighs softly, tracing the white bandage on his shoulder with his fingers.

Your gaze, too, shifts to the blood-stained bandage over his shoulder as you look over at him. You're a bit curious whether he was tracing it more due to his overall unease or because he was reminiscing about the very person who had put it on him in the first place.

Leon notices your stare on his shoulder, and his fingers stop their movements, almost like he's a bit embarrassed of it. As he looks back up at you, his expression is a perfect blend of exhaustion and contemplation. A somewhat awkward moment of silence passes, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

"...How are you holding up?" you coax, your voice a bit quieter than usual, much to your own surprise.

Geez, you didn't mean to sound so worried.

"I'm... managing," he responds with a hint of fatigue in his own voice. He softly pokes at the makeshift bandage again, grimacing instantly as another dull pain throbs in his shoulder. "-It still hurts like hell though. But I guess I can't complain. Considering everything."

You let out a sigh and lean forward, resting your arms on your knees: "That's... not what I'm asking here."

In a way, you were curious why you were asking him this in the first place. Not like it's important. Or should be important. Your shared experience together did not change the fact that you and Leon were still pretty much strangers, regardless of everything. Or maybe you were being too cynical. Regardless, the absence of Claire and Sherry allowed for you two to converse with each other one on one for the first time in a rather long while. Something that you felt the need for. For a variety of reasons.

Your words cause Leon's brows to furrow slightly, be it confusion or something else. Though, it's obvious he understands what you're implying here, what you're truly asking from him. He pauses for another long moment, seemingly unsure of how to respond. You don't rush him. Letting the silence settle between you two once more, safe for the quiet hum of the air conditioner and an occasional car driving by somewhere in the distance.

Finally, he looks away from you and stares down at the cheap carpet on the floor. His expression is almost fragile as he speaks up, his eyes hinting at a hidden vulnerability he kept inside up until this point: "It's... I don't know. I just... all the people I- we couldn't save..."

You quickly recognize his potential indirect referral. Or perhaps you were already aware of it from the very beginning, simply waiting for him to get to it. After all, the urgency to escape prevented you from talking about it, the entire Nest crumbling in on itself in a blaze of fire and ashes.

No time for talking about your feelings when you are about to fucking explode, after all.

Leon trails off, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

So, you cut straight to it for him.

"...Are you thinking about her?" you murmur faintly but just loud enough for him to hear, looking directly at him. Providing a name wasn't necessary for you both to understand exactly who you were referring to here.

Ada.

As Leon glances back up at you abruptly, his blue eyes flash with surprise. It's easy to see the moment his heart drops, a pretty blatant mix of pain and guilt quickly washing over his face. Looks like you hit the jackpot after all.

He tries to speak, but then shuts his mouth once more. The look in his eyes is now one of confusion as he runs a hand through his hair frustratedly. You allow him to have his moment with no interference. 

"...Yeah. I am," he finally admits, his voice almost a whisper. It's a wonder you heard him at all. With all the gunshots and explosions, you wouldn't have been surprised to find your hearing suffering greatly. He sighs heavily, his fingers twiddling together on his lap. "I... know it's probably stupid. Hell, it is stupid. To feel guilty over someone I barely even knew. Someone who..."

You sigh and lower your gaze as well. Saying things were complicated would be the same as saying nothing at all. Their final confrontation on the bridge was inaudible to you due to your distance. So, you were unaware of what was said between them. Not all of it, at least. The rumbling sounds of the Umbrella facility slowly crumbling in on itself caused everything to be drowned out to you. You didn't dare ask him about it, either.

His voice catches in his throat and he hesitates, making it obvious that it's your cue to continue now.

The judgment you made on Ada was based on what you saw from afar. That's all you could really offer him here.

"I do think she cared. About you, at least. We don't know why she did what she did. But... she didn't shoot you back there. I don't think she wanted to," you say, pursing your lips in thought as you play over what your eyes have seen. You were not aware of what Ada's last words to him were before she slipped from his grasp. But what you did see unfolding in front of you was... conflicting, to say the least.

Your words have a pretty profound effect on Leon, causing his heart to tighten in his chest with a painful pull. He understands all the implications behind them and, admittedly, he had already came to the same conclusion within himself. He just had no desire at all to actually face it and accept it. The fact that Ada's refusal to harm him to get her way was clear evidence of her allegiance. But that evidence was cruel and left him with no closure at all. Nervously, he runs his hand through his hair again, releasing a bitter laugh that felt heavy on his lungs. He is unsure whether he should be angry, sympathetic, or simply mournful towards the enigmatic woman who was such a mystery in every way, up to the very end. Perhaps he experiences all three emotions at the same time.

But you both know that if it were you standing there instead of Leon...

Ada probably wouldn't have hesitated on pulling the trigger.

He looks to you again, maybe hoping for you to give him some information he knew you couldn't give.

But you don't meet his gaze, choosing instead to look downwards, seemingly just as conflicted about this all as he is. Of course, Leon realizes that his numerous questions would remain unanswered for an indefinite period. Probaby forever. He also had to accept that you couldn't give him any answers, or closure that could potentially come with them. Ada has died, and there was no way to change that cold, hard fact. Just like there was no way to take back all the lives of countless others who were lost in those streets. Racoon City had transformed from a community of pride and hopeful future into a place of death and bloodshed, with only you, Claire, and Sherry, managing to escape it alive. That was your current understanding, at least.

It would be nice to meet other survivors. But, for now, all he could do was sigh and accept your answer, however unfair it was on his heart. 

"Yeah, maybe... Maybe you're right," he mutters before falling into silence once more. His mind is racing with so many thoughts, all in conflict with one another. He is torn between his heart's desire to believe that Ada cared and the warnings of his mind to be cautious. He is uncertain about any of his emotions or thoughts at this point. He lets out another tired huff of frustration. "I just- I just wish I knew why. Why she did what she did, how much of it was real, or..."

...Or whether she cared about him at all.

"Well... at least you're safe. Let's leave it at that," your voice cuts through the dark whirlpool of thoughts in his head, turning his attention back on you. You seem to be focusing on his injured shoulder again. Perhaps in an attempt to divert the conversation, you switch the subject: "-We should really clean that up for you. It's all dirty and bloodied. Can't be good."

Leon winces as he instinctively tries to move his injured shoulder, further proving your point. He complies with a single nod, fully aware of the dire need for cleaning and proper care for the wound hidden under the worn-out bandages. Or... whatever care you could provide. At this point, anything is better than this dirty, blood-soaked thing.

"Uh, yeah. It's been a while, and it's starting to kind of..."

He stops, his face contorting in pain while he tries to move it again. His shoulder is becoming increasingly tender, and the bandage is completely stained with dark crimson blood. How much of it is his, and how much of it is of the other mutated things that used to be humans or animals he had to fight off, is unclear. Taking a deep breath, he prepares himself mentally for the miserable ordeal ahead. 

This experience will not be pleasant.

That pitiful look you give him doesn't help his pride, either. Or what's left of it, anyways. 

Regardless, not wanting to stall this any longer than he has to, he gingerly shifts his wounded shoulder and starts to delicately remove his police uniform with caution, taking his time. He took off his body armor the day before, leaving it stacked neatly somewhere in the far corner. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. Still, what was left of the dirtied police uniform on him was just as much of a reminder of the night before. He flinches involuntarily due to the fabric brushing against the bloody bandage, the pain instantly radiating from his shoulder straight to his insides.

You realize that you cannot just sit back and watch him struggle on his own, pride be damned.

"...Here. Let me help," you murmur softly as you approach him and sit next to him on the motel bed. You begin to delicately unbutton and peel off his soiled uniform from his upper body, aiming to avoid putting any unneeded discomfort on his already tender shoulder.

Leon nods quietly in response to your assistance. You're grateful he didn't make a big deal out of it. Outwardly, at least. He raises his good arm and makes an effort to shift his position, allowing you to help him in taking off what was left. "Thanks..."

You try not to think too much about the fact that you are basically undressing a cute guy you just met the day before.

With your help, you eventually succeed in removing the top portion of his uniform, leaving him in his pants and a bandage to cover his bruised skin. As he sits there, you can tell that his upper body being fully uncovered to your gaze - except for the stained bandage on his shoulder that is - is making him feel rather awkward and tense. You can't really blame him for that.

You sure would be feeling embarrassed in his place.

"...I probably look a total mess right now," Leon shoots you a somewhat nervous smile. Despite him clearly trying to make a joke, you can still hear the painfully obvious apprehension in his voice.

"Yeah, you do," you agree rather bluntly as you glance over him without crossing any inappropriate boundaries. Leon had a more fit body than you expected, which... made sense in hindsight due to his recent graduation from the Police Academy, as he told you. It was probably necessary for him to be in good shape. Although muscular, he wasn't excessively so. His body was... normal. In a good way. Decently toned, with some softness around his sides and belly. Frankly, if it wasn't for the situation at hand, you would have complimented him, but you suppress that urge as soon as it arises.

You don't need to make things even more weird between you two.

As your eyes travel up and down his body, you lock eyes with each other for a brief, awkward moment. You quickly break eye contact with the each other, almost simultaneously.

Welp, so much for not being awkward.

"Uh... Do you remember what Ada did for you exactly...?" you say instead, touching his uninjured shoulder lightly. When Leon was shot, you were not together. You missed witnessing the event directly, only reuniting with him afterwards when he already had a fresh bandage wrapped snuggly around his shoulder.

"No... I passed out after I got shot," there is a brief pause between you, and his face reflects a mixture of pain and another indescribable emotion that you can't really pinpoint clearly. Whether it's physical discomfort speaking or something else entirely, you don't know. "I woke up with it already on and her gone."

You watch him turn his attention back to his injured shoulder, where the white bandage is stained with dried blood. He gently rubs the fabric with his fingers, sensing the pain and discomfort that emanates from the fresh wound beneath. Despite everything, it's very much evident that he can't help but feel at least a small tingle of gratitude towards Ada, even though it hurts him to think about her at the moment.

"Well, since you didn't bleed out, and your arm is still somewhat usable, I'd say she did a good job," you let out a sigh and lean back slightly. Although you had previously taken a rather beneficial first aid course, you never anticipated having to actually apply those skills to treat a severe bullet wound, of all things. "...Her being a mercenary explains her way around such stuff, I guess."

Leon's eyes are still fixed on his injured shoulder as he nods. Guess he wasn't feeling very talkative for now. Not that you could blame him for that.

He runs his hand through his messy hair as you go to grab the medkit you thoughtfully prepared for the occasion, the faint sound of his fingers scratching against his scalp echoes in the room. You can only guess that his hair is probably just as dry and dirty as yours is, considering the circumstances you've just recently escaped from. On some level, it makes you feel less awkward about your own disheveled appearance in turn. It's good to know that you are all in the same boat here. Looking like a mess, and feeling like one, too.

"It sure does," he exhales somewhat bitterly, his voice filled with underlying anguish, as if he feels deeply betrayed. And he probably does. His face covered in a plethora of conflicting emotions. You feel a twinge of sympathy tugging at your heartstrings again. "I wish she could have just... been honest with me. From the start."

It appears that he is struggling to reconcile with the disparity between the person he believed he knew and the person Ada truly was.

You decide to not mention that he knew her for less than 24 hours. After all, it's evident that he's going through a difficult time as it is, and your practicality may not be of much help to him. Emotions are notoriously illogical.

It's difficult to think of a way to comfort him in the current situation.

"Well, at least you still have me, right? We made it out. And Claire, too. And Sherry." So, instead, you choose to gently rub his uninjured shoulder as a wordless show of support. "C'mon. Let's get that dirty bandage off of you. We don't want you catching an infection or something."

When you touch his shoulder again, he returns his gaze back to you, some life returning to the gentle blues of his eyes, much to your relief. Looks like your touch did the trick, as his body gradually loosens up under your palm. He gives you a small but genuine smile. "Alright, alright. Let's get this done, then. This is going to suck though..."

"Hey, it can't be as bad as actually getting shot, though, right?" you attempt to make a small joke to lighten the mood, but you instantly feel a deep sense of discomfort inside as soon as you actually speak it aloud.

Well, that sure sounded macabre.

"Uh... Sorry. That was... pretty bad."

Leon snorts out a short laugh regardless, running a hand over his face. At least you made him laugh. Though you can't help but wonder whether he laughed at your joke, or you. Probable the latter. Regardless, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the very probable agony of having his shoulder directly meddled with.

You both understand that it'll likely be pretty painful for him to endure, but you also understand that it is very much essential to get done. Especially since you haven't visited a hospital yet.

So, after you share a nod of mutual agreement with him, you begin to carefully remove the dirty bandage from his shoulder, taking your time to avoid causing him any unnecessary discomfort.

Besides your unfunny joke, that is.

"...Your jokes are terrible." Leon mutters under his breath, probably to distract himself a little. He winces slightly, the fabric that's already hardened now rubbing directly against the wound from your movements, which is more than uncomfortable to sit through, but not as painful as he expected. Or maybe he has just become more numb to the pain of it. "Don't be too gentle, by the way. Better to just get it over with as quickly as possible."

"I'm not about to hurry through this and potentially make it worse, sorry," you deadpan, leaving no room for doubt. 

Well, so much for his hopes of getting this done quickly. Though he knows you're right there. He just really doesn't want to sit through this.

As you continue to unravel the bandage, he clenches his teeth tightly. The pain is bearable, but it's far from enjoyable. With you steadily approach the actual wound, his entire body tightens involuntarily, muscles going taut with contained tension. The actual memory of being shot is still fresh in his mind, unfortunately. Though, he tries to divert his attention away from the pain by focusing on your presence and touch instead, however dubious such a notion may be.

He can hear you release a small sigh, whether it was out of annoyance or pity for him, he couldn't really tell. Your lips tighten as you carefully and patiently unravel each layer of cloth one by one to reach the aforementioned wound. He quickly looks down at his lap, scolding himself inwardly.

Why was he staring at your lips, of all things, anyways? He has no concise answer for that. And he is not sure what to expect once you two can finally look at the bullet wound itself, either. It's like everything was uncertain, and that was frustrating, to say the least.

"F-Fuck... That hurts-"

He clenches his teeth tightly, determined not to make any unneeded noise. He doesn't want to appear weak in your presence for some reason. Perhaps it's his pride speaking. He didn't really know.

"Sorry... I'm going as gently as I can," your voice is softer than he's used to, and he's not sure how to take that. You take your sweet time to remove the remaining layers of his bandage, being cautious not to abruptly tear it off, opting instead for a slower and more careful approach. Considerate as ever.

Leon releases a trembling breath while you carefully remove the final layer of fabric. He has to fight a growing urge to recoil as the last remaining layers of bandage are delicately removed. But it does at least feel relieving to finally take a full breath with no restriction that the tightness of the fabric secured around his chest provided. Even if such freedom was probably brief.

You both can now see his entire shoulder, which completely reveals the wound for you both to behold. He is very much aware of his heart pounding in his chest, his nerves on high alert. Once the wound is finally exposed, you examine it, quickly glancing over the hastily but securely stitched front and back where the bullet entered and exited his body. It was certainly not a clean, medical work, but it far surpassed anything either of you were capable of doing for him.

"Looks like she stitched you up, too... I wonder if that means she removed the bullet," you note, your brows furrowed together, creating a rather adorable-looking wrinkle between them.

...Goddammit, he's thinking utter nonsense.

"Ugh... I don't want to look at it," he mutters with clenched teeth, his breath slightly uneven. Nonetheless, he tries to divert his attention to something else, anything else, to distract himself from the nervousness twisting at his insides. The pain is intense and prickling, a sensation that spreads from the wound itself. The tender area around the injury causes Leon to wince involuntarily as you delicately touch it. He looks down at the wound, the stitched-up flesh making him a bit queasy. But he pushes past it. "I... can't tell you anything on what she did, sorry. Like I said, I passed out."

He looks away from it, not wanting to see it for much longer. Damn it, this will likely leave a mark. So much for the first day on the job. The idea of having to bear a permanent reminder of that horrible night makes him want to wail and claw at the walls.

But instead, he just lets out a shaky breath, his hands gripping at the sheets with iron-tight grip. In some sick irony, he now finds himself wishing for the dull, physical ache to return, to take center-stage again, instead of these feelings of disgust and dread that were so much more difficult to deal with.

Once again, your voice pulls him out of his silent turmoil. This seems to be a common occurrence now. But one he's grateful for, nonetheless.

"Well... Either way, you'll still need to go to a hospital for this. Preferably as soon as possible," you state, pretty much admitting that you would rather have opted to go directly to the hospital after your escape instead of staying in a nearby motel. He knew that you didn't approve of his stubborn refusal to go to the hospital. And here you were now. DIY care will have to do. You hum, your fingertips carefully tracing around the stitches. He shivers. Whether that was from the pain or something else entirely, he didn't really know. "-At least it's stitched up, so that's good. I'll just clean it, disinfect it, and wrap it back up for you. Hopefully it'll be okay."

"Yeah, I know I need to get this checked out. But for now..." As you start tending to his injury with a wet wipe, he flinches a bit, feeling a sharp pain from the cold dampness touching his skin. He hisses through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he continues, his voice strained from the pain: "-I just want us to get out of here first. As far away from Racoon City as possible. Especially Sherry."

"Sorry... Bear with it for a while, will you?" you say as you move closer to him on the bed, glancing at him with that cute sympathetic look of yours. You start from his back and then move to his front. He shuts his eyes again while you continue with the wound cleaning, concentrating on taking deep, regular breaths to soothe his nerves. His body tenses up involuntarily, as the pain from the wound and the recollection of how it happened remain vivid in his thoughts.

"It's alright... I'll handle it." A sensitive area on his shoulder causes him to squirm slightly when touched. His entire body tightens instinctively, and his muscles contract involuntarily. "S-Sorry, just... Be careful, okay?"

You nod as you continue to cleanse his skin of dried up blood, while he tries to find solace in your quiet comfort. It presents a challenge, as the pain from his injury and the physical proximity between you two hinder his ability to focus on anything else.

"Don't apologize. I'm not the one with a damn bullet wound in my shoulder," you respond to his apology with a soft huff and a small shake of your head, your attention fully focused on your work. Your primary objective was to avoid making any sharp movements and to prevent your eyes from wandering south.

Which was... a bit harder than you would have liked to admit. You notice a few birthmarks scattered around his skin here and there. It's cute. A part of you wants to trace over them with your finger.

But, of course, you have a job to do.

Leon takes a deep breath, his chest slowly rising and falling as you work on him carefully. His teeth are clenched far too tightly for his comfort, and you are kind of worried that he might chip a tooth if he keeps this up. But considering that you have no idea what he's going through here, you decide to keep your mouth shut on that.

After successfully cleaning the area around his rough stitches, you pull away and search through the first aid kit you had in the motel room. A small, thoughtful hum fills your lips.

You hear Leon laugh weakly:"...Anything worthwhile in there, doc?"

"Well, there's some antibiotic cream in here... Better than nothing. I guess?"

He watches as you pull out the small tube of some basic antibacterial cream. You're pretty sure you have seen it somewhere before. Then again, no point expecting some high-end medicine from a med-kit you found stashed in the bedside drawer. Regardless, you make sure to read through its contents, just to be sure. Satisfied, you nod to yourself and return to sit behind him, beginning to apply the cream to his stitches with your fingertips. He instantly grimaces, be it from the pain or the cold. His muscle tighten again  for a moment, a small gasp leaving his lips.

"Stay still," you instruct to him softly as you spread the cream over his stitches thoroughly, your forehead wrinkling with focus. You try your best to be gentle while also ensuring that an adequate amount is applied to the injury.

"Ugh... shit, that's cold," he grits out, his voice strained.

For a small while, the room is silent, aside from Leon's shaky breaths and an occasional grunt of pain as he struggles to stay still for you. After you thoroughly treated both sides, you withdraw with a sigh: "Well... That's as good as we can do for now. We just need to wrap it back up with something."

Leon exhales a trembling breath of relief. Poor guy definitely had the worst night of his life.

"Heh... I guess I owe you one for this." He directs his gaze towards his shoulder, his eyes shifting between his bloodstained shirt lying crumbled on the floor and the now clean and treated stitches. Compared to their previous state, they definitely looked a bit better, but it was still, admittedly, pretty gross to look at. You can only guess that it will be a lengthy recovery for him. He hums. "You did a great job, by the way. I'm not sure I could have handled doing all that by myself,"

He meets your eyes with a gentle, grateful smile.

"-Just make sure to get it treated at the hospital. I don't need anything else from you." You dismiss him with a small smile of your own. Leon gives you a small nod at that.

However brief, the implication of the future makes you feel a bit... uneasy. Considering the past night's events, the idea of parting and going your separate ways seemed to be somewhat conflicting to you. Nonetheless, you have already accepted that it was inevitable. Leon, on the other hand, seemed to be firmly committed to destroying Umrella completely for what it did to Racoon City, just like Claire was. You felt somewhat out of place between these two determined individuals. After all, you were just an ordinary person who somehow miraculously escaped relatively unharmed. You weren't a courageous hero, nor were you skillfull enough to take down an entire corporation in some blaze of glory.

...Except for the scar or two for you to brag about now. Though you honestly doubt your survival is something to be proud of. You sure don't feel proud or accomplished at all.

Regardless, you ignore all these thoughts and concentrate on retrieving fresh bandages, contemplating them with a pensive expression. It's a bit of a hassle to unwrap the delicate gauze without tearing it. "...I sure hope this will be enough to wrap your shoulder back up. Though I guess I can just run out and buy some more."

"I think that should be enough. And don't worry about running out to get more. I don't want you going out there alone," Leon's voice is more serious than you expect, prompting you to raise a brow at him. He meets your questioning gaze, his face showing a somewhat worried expression. "We're stronger together. Safer together. And after everything we've been through, I don't want to risk us losing sight of each other."

"What do you would even happen, though? We're out now, right? I get that you and Claire want to deal with Umbrella and all, but..." you let out a sigh and move closer to him from behind, beginning to gently wrap the bandage around his shoulder and torso to provide support. Despite the awkwardness and clumsiness of your work, you do your best for him. "-I'm just a normal, boring person with a normal, boring life, y'know. Not much I can do. I'm guessing I'll just... go back home to my State or something. Since Racoon City is obviously... uh... not an option of residence anymore."

Leon nods again as he listens to you. He takes a brief pause, staring down at the fresh bandages layering themselves over his body before returning to look back at you over his shoulder. You lock eyes with him.

"But still... I'd feel better if you stuck with me. Or Claire. At least until you and Sherry are somewhere safe," he shrugs slightly, wincing as the motion immediately strains at his wounded shoulder. "I'm not saying you have to help us take down Umbrella if you don't want to. That's our fight. But... I would feel better knowing that you're safe and protected. And if that means sticking with me until you are, then..."

"-Go easy on that shoulder, will you?" you release a small sigh of frustration when you see him casually shrug and grimace instantly. You place a hand on his uninjured shoulder to acclimate him a bit before continuing bandaging him up.

"Sorry, sorry. Staying still now." A sheepish chuckle leaves him as he gives you an almost guilty look. A trembling breath escapes him as you work at his shoulder. Although it's obvious that he's still uncomfortable, it looks like his pain has eased a little, much to your relief.

You take a deep breath, your expression shifting slightly. Truth be told, you were a bit jealous of Leon's unyielding faith into things somehow working out in the end. It was naive, but... refreshing, too. He continues, his gaze now locked onto you over his shoulder: "And you're not boring, you know. Sure, you may not have any special skills or training, but you're smart. Brave. Resilient. You've survived this far, haven't you?"

You take a brief moment to reflect on his words, with only the faint noise of the gauze being unwrapped and distant sounds from outside permeating the motel room. "-Won't I just be a burden to you guys, though? You're a cop. And Claire is apparently one impressive badass with a gun. I'm not... Ada, either. I'm just... well, me. Not much I can offer to help you in the long run."

You take a brief break to lock eyes with him again. Leon smiles at you faintly, his face now looking more relaxed, no longer wrinkled with the expression of pain: "Well... You've got heart. That counts for something in my book."

"Uh... not to be a downer, but I don't think my 'heart' will keep me safe out there. I never even shot a gun properly before. Until last night that is," you whisper playfully, rolling your eyes at him. Somehow, his words always manage to bring a smile to your face, even if it's a small one. Though he is pretty damn corny. "I guess I could kill zombies with kindness. Do you think my heart is any good for that?"

Leon laughs at that, his eyes twinkling with amusement. It looks like your bluntness didn't bother him much. When you're eventually finished with bandaging him up, you're able to see how well the pure white fabric of the fresh gauze contrasts with the previous dirty and bloody one now lying discarded on the floor. Leon takes a moment to look back down at his freshly bandaged shoulder, too, appreciating your work. At least you hope he did.

"I mean... I could teach you how to shoot properly and all. If you want." He looks back up at you with a genuinely sincere expression on his face. He takes a short pause and a small smile appears on his lips before he adds: "...And I get the feeling you'd be a natural shot from what I've seen from you already."

You only scoff at that, your attention focused on inspecting his body, examining the various cuts and bruises that still marred his skin.

Leon lets out another gentle chuckle at your dismissive response or lack there of, his face showing a combination of amusement and gratitude. Admittedly, you're a bit more huffy with him now that you're out of danger. You can't really help it. But that doesn't mean you don't feel any worry twist in your gut as you look over his bruised body.

"-How about I patch some of these up as well? Since I have all the supplies out and all."

"You sure? I can walk it off just fine," Leon says in a rather playful tone. Though, to make it easier for you to observe his body, he still carefully adjusts his position to face you fully. "Sure, a few cuts and scrapes here and there, and I'm guessing I'm gonna be bruised up pretty bad, but... Nothing to make a fuss about."

You only grace him with yet another deadpan look that makes it clear that you already made the decision for him. So, without saying another word, you grab another wet wipe and begin cleaning out his numerous smaller cuts and gashes scattered here and there, starting with his lower back, as you move behind him once more.

Leon emits a soft hiss, the familiar coldness causing him to shudder against you. He's rather pliable for you, for some reason. You kind of expected him to protest or at least grumble a bit at your incessant coddling. But it seems like he was fine with just letting you play nurse for him. 

"Stay still, will you," you quietly chide him, placing a hand on his back to stop his squirming.

"Sorry, it just stings like hell..." he mumbles as he attempts to remain still for you, his muscles tightened. His body grows increasingly rigid as you continue to tend to his wounds, a trembling exhale leaving his lips. He clenches his teeth again, but he sometimes cannot resist emitting a hiss or gasp here and there. "God, I don't remember the last time I got beat up this bad... I feel like I got hit by a damn train."

You now move to position yourself in front of him to take care of his stomach area. And once again, you find yourself trying to keep your mind from focusing too much on the physical proximity between you two. Especially as you shift to kneel on the floor between his legs, finding no other better option to be level with his lower abdomen in a way that would be comfortable for you.

All you are doing is taking care of his wounds and nothing else.

Leon and you are both acutely aware of how close you are to him now, his breath catching in his throat when you kneel in front of him. But he doesn't say anything about it, and neither do you. After all, saying anything about it would potentially force you to confront some feelings you weren't comfortable confronting quite yet. As you clean up some minor cuts of his, you feel a slight increase in your heart rate despite all your best efforts to keep a level head. However, you try your damnest to put these unwanted feelings aside by reminding yourself that you are simply doing your job.

...Only you certainly can't ignore the fact that you are now essentially kneeling between his legs. Despite this, you persevere in cleaning him up, your hands moving over his chest and abdomen with great care. With too much care, really. There was no reason for you to be so careful and soft with him. But you do so anyways.

Leon watches you intently as you're working on him in tense silence, his eyes fixed on your face, hands, the way your hair occasionally falls over your face from your position, partially obscuring your features from his view. Your gentle assistance causes him to feel a tiny shiver traveling down his spine every time you move your fingers and touch his skin directly. He swallows, clearing his throat.

"Fucking hell... I'm gonna be sore as hell for weeks," Leon lets out a somewhat shaky laugh, trying to adopt a light and casual tone despite the situation. Though, he is mostly just hoping to distract himself from... everything.

...He wonders how your touch would feel on him without the washcloth there to mask it.

You give him a slight shrug in response. "-Sore is better than dead."

Fair.

"Thanks for... taking care of all this. I don't know what I'd do without you right now."

"Probably have Claire do this for me."

Leon laughs nervously, realizing that his attempts at small-talk are not quite working out. He watches you grab the antibacterial cream and move back up to sit behind him on the bed. When you begin applying the cream to his back, he wries slightly but tries his best to remain still for you and conceal the full extent of his discomfort. Your hands on his skin, and the cream's coldness is making him shiver for the countless time today. "...Is the cream really necessary? It's just some cuts and bruises..."

"Yup."

He sighs, hanging his head low and accepting his fate. Once the initial foreign coldness of the cream subsidies, the sensation of your touch on his skin has a strangely relaxing effect on him, especially so when it doesn't involve the aching bullet wound on his shoulder. He leans into your touch mindlessly, despite the ache, feeling his muscles gradually unwind under your care.

He's not necessarily aware of the action. But once he does notice it, he doesn't try to move back, either. After all the stress and pain, it's too much of a relief. And he's far too weak to resist it.

With a small smile on his lips, he glances at you over his shoulder and says: "You know... I've gotta say, being taken care of by a beautiful stranger like you isn't all that bad."

You huff out a surprised laugh at that, giving him a rather adorable-looking eye roll. He feels his smile grow, feeling oddly proud of making you laugh. Even if it was probably at his expense.

"...Not sure how I'm supposed to respond to that, but thank you for the compliment. You're not so bad yourself. For a patient." Your dismissive response at his cheeky remark is something that Leon finds genuinely amusing. He knows he took you by surprise with that. Which was his intention all along.

And just like that, you return back to the floor, settling between his legs and starting to apply cream to the small cuts scattered on his stomach. Like it's no big deal whatsoever. Your calm and nonchalant attitude about this all is kind of driving him crazy. It makes him feel like he's insane for feeling all frazzled by this entire situation. But he keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to embarrass himself any further.

Your ghostly touches across his abdomen cause a slight increase in his heart rate, another shudder running down his spine despite his efforts to suppress it. He tries to hide his body's unwelcome reactions to your touch, biting down on his lip, but he can't help but tremble and gasp occasionally, writing it off on the pain in his head. Rather poorly. His body stubbornly refuses to calm down, not when he can feel the sensation of your fingers gliding across his skin so gently, and he just has to sit there deal with it.

...And hopefully avoid getting a very awkward boner, considering your position between his legs.

Trying to keep the mood light, he grins down at you his eyes glued to you as his voice takes on a more joking tone. Though it sounds more shaky and nervous than confident, much to his annoyance: "You don't have to respond. Just take the compliment."

"Gee, thank you. Very gracious of you," you laugh briefly, shaking your head at him. At times, you were too much. Leon wonders if that's how you normally act, when you're not in a life-or-death situation. He was not prepared for you to be so curt and snarky with him. In a way, it was endearing. Though, of course, he wasn't about to admit that outloud.

Regardless, he finds himself shooting his shot again. Almost on impulse.

"Y'know... You're making this whole 'being patched up' thing damn near enjoyable," his tone is playful, but a subtle hint of interest still manages to sneak into his voice, mixed in with his playful words. He was testing the waters. Trying to see just how receptive you were to his flattery that was a bit more flirty in nature.

"Well, at least you're not in pain. That's good enough for me." Your response is almost unfairly simple, prompting him pout a bit as he watches you finish up on the task of tending to his numerous minor cuts and bruises that he acquired the night before. At the very least, this was much easier for him to handle, both physically and mentally, compared to the gruesome bullet wound you just treated. His torso still had a few noticeable bruises and smaller cuts from the previous day, but he definitely looked much better without all the dried up blood and dirt stuck to his skin and making it seem worse than it really was.

With a soft sigh, you pull back from him and look over him, pausing to look at his bruised hands in particular: "-Those probably hurt, no?"

He concentrates on his hands for a good minute, staring down at them and flexing his fingers to gauge their feel. With a slight grimace, he experiences a tiny burst of pain as he moves them, an exasperated huff leaving his lips.

At this point, is there any part of his body that doesn't hurt like a bitch?

"...A bit. Can't say I'm really surprised, though. It's a wonder I have any usable hands left at all, honestly."

His expression softens slightly when he meets your gaze, noticing the crystal-clear worry in your eyes. He finds it charming how much you truly care and desire to help him. You may be a bit more sharp with him, but your genuine concern for him never went away. He's definitely not used to being doted on so much. Though he feels a bit guilty for enjoying it as much as he does.

You shake your head again, giving him a pointed look at his little quip: "Don't get all dramatic now."

He smiles at that.

"No, but really. Thanks for tending to me. I was serious when I said that I wouldn't know what I'd do without you right now," he repeats his previous statement again, mostly because he doesn't really know what else to say. Or, rather, what he wants to say is a bit out of line.

"Nah. I'm not doing anything groundbreaking here. It just helps to keep my hands busy. I'll probably patch up Claire and Sherry once they come back, too." You wave off his gratitude, as always. 

Leon has to refrain from voicing his observations, which directly contradict your words. Which are that you visibly cared more and felt more concerned for him in particular. He didn't want to create an awkward situation between you two. Instead, he watches quietly as you hum and delicately take hold of his hands, bringing them closer to your face to assess the damage. Of course, it wasn't a major problem. In all honesty, you could have concluded this all once you took care of his bullet wound, as it was the only truly crucial matter to deal with. Everything else that followed was rather unnecessary, all things considered.

He freely lets you hold onto his hands without any resistance. His heart flutters slightly as he feels the tenderness of your touch once more. Observing your face, he feels a mix of affection and amusement bubbling in his chest as you examine his hands so thoroughly. Your gaze lingering on his bruised knuckles is something he notices in particular. You're rather attentive with him.

Nonetheless, you pull back once you're satisfied, meeting his gaze. "-It'll probably be good to bandage up those knuckles. Make it less painful for you, at least."

"Yeah, that might not be a bad idea," he says in a light tone, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat steadily accelerates due to the warm sensation of your fingers against his skin with no barriers getting in the way. And ignoring the persistent thoughts of lacing his fingers with yours, just to see how that would feel like.

As you begin silently wrapping his knuckles with gauze, he watches as your hands move gently and precisely over him. Even if it was faint, he couldn't help but notice the contrast between the size of your hands and his own. He almost becomes distracted by the sensation of your touch, but your voice takes him out of it.

"-Nice to know that taking that first aid course back in college wasn't a total waste of time," you muse playfully while you delicately wrap the gauze around one of his hands, making sure not to apply too much pressure on it. The sensation was comforting. By taking care of Leon, you were not only helping him, but also alleviating your own worries following the events of the previous night. In a sense, you were doing this for yourself as much as for him.

"Well, you're really good at this. Maybe you should be a nurse. Look into that." Leon's voice is soft even if his words are teasing, a hint of appreciation or admiration seeping through. You couldn't really tell.

As you scrunch up at him in response to his compliment, Leon giggles. The sound of it feels oddly calm and soothing to you. You are acutely aware of his eyes on you as you swiftly wrap the gauze around his hand, but you do not mention it to him. Considering that you were acting rather excessive with your care for him, you couldn't really blame him for staring. Once you are done with one of his hands, he glances at his freshly bandaged knuckles with a faint smile gracing his lips.

"...Never thought I'd put my skills to use like this though," your say quietly.

"I never thought I'd end up getting shot on my first day on the job, either. Or attacked by a giant alligator. It's been a wild ride, to say the least."

"I guess we all got the rug pulled from under our feet last night, so to speak," you sigh, your brows furrowing a bit as your mind drifts back to the events of the night prior. But you don't dwell on it too much. Focusing instead of the feel of Leon's hand in yours.

As you gradually complete the bandaging on his other hand as well, he continues to watch you in silence, his gaze fixed on your face as you concentrate on your task. You feel a bit sheepish, knowing you are being watched this closely, a warm, ticklish sensation flickering to life in your chest. You sigh and shake it off.

"But hey, I'm grateful I got to meet you. Though that was... one hell of a first meeting," his tone is sincere and quiet, with a genuine intention behind his words you can't overlook even if you try. You are suddenly fully aware that you probably wouldn't have been able to figure out what to do without his presence by your side in duration of that hellish night. In fact, if it wasn't for him, you'd probably be dead. Be it by giving up on fighting and simply accepting your fate, or being far too panicked to get yourself together in a moment of importance.

You wouldn't have survived if you were on your own put there. At least that's what you thought.

"I'm... glad I met you, too. And I'm glad you're here with me, right now."

The ease with which these words just fly out of your mouth is... surprising. A rather long moment of silence follows, only the soft sound of the bandage being wrapped around his other hand and the distant noise of cars outside filling the cramped motel room.

You do not look up at him, but you can be pretty certain that Leon is probably just as taken aback by your unexpectedly moving response. Your heart skips as you swiftly realize the genuine sincerity of your own words that seemed to have a mind of their own. This wasn't like you. Being this open and vulnerable about your feelings. Especially so to someone you've just met. Maybe you were even more of a mess than you thought. But when you do get the courage to sneak a quick glance up at him, his expression is rather soft, much to your surprise. You cannot quite comprehend what is reflected in there, but it brings a warm, blooming feeling to your chest regardless.

"Uh... Thanks," he speaks up eventually, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual, but you are grateful enough that he managed to blurt out at least something to end this heavy beat of silence. The unexpected intensity of the moment has left you feeling a bit flustered and caught off guard, and you never liked not being in control of your emotions.

He continues to watch you as you finish bandaging his other hand, his gaze shifting between your face and his now fully bandaged knuckles. Throughout this quiet but charged process, you deal with a rather strange combination of feelings. Gratitude for his understanding of your odd behavior without focusing on it too much. A fluttery, nervous feeling in your stomach due to your physical proximity to him, making you painfully aware of every rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes. A burning heat of embarrassment blooming in your cheeks from being so upfront with him all of the sudden.

It was a doozy, to say the least. Especially to your already worn out mind.

You exhale slowly, calming yourself. Leaning slightly back on your knees, you observe his bandaged hands. Despite finding a safe place to rest and sleep without immediate danger, you still feel a sense of unease and uncertainty somewhere in the back of your mind, gnawing at your every thought like an ugly, persistent parasite. And these new emotions you are now dealing with did not help with that feeling of apprehension whatsoever. You're growing increasingly unsure about what to do next or how to proceed after all is resolved. Both short-term as well as long-term. 

Will you just return to your regular daily routine after this? Go back to work like nothing happened? Try out that study program you were so interested in applying for? Visit that new Cafe that opened near your apartment back home?

All of that seems almost impossible now. The same things that used to make you feel hopeful and excited for the future now seemed completely hollow. You felt hollow. Like Racoon City has robbed you of your future, even if it let you escape alive.

But what other option is there for you?

To play hero and risk your life again?

You weren't sure you could handle that, either.

"Hey, I..." Leon starts to speak, breaking you out of your trance, but his voice fades away without ever finishing whatever he was planning on saying to you. He clearly wants to convey something, but he is either unsure of what to say, or is hesitant about speaking his mind at all. You can't really blame him. You find it rather infuriating yourself, trying to find the correct words to express the unique combination of emotions swirling within you chest.

You shake your head, expelling all these unwanted thoughts from your mind. At least for a brief moment.

"-For what it's worth, I really am glad you've survived. With me. And... I'm thankful. For all you did for me. Even though you didn't know me at all."

Your thumbs are absentmindedly brushing against his palm now while you keep your gaze lowered. You don't want to see his face right now. Perhaps, you're just scared to.

"...You may not have saved everybody. Or most people you wanted to save. But... I'm here thanks to you. So... thank you. For saving me," you finish quietly. Taking little time to consider your next action, you find yourself leaning down and gently kissing his bandaged knuckles, lingering there for a few moments before withdrawing. You don't address the issue directly or consider its significance.

You refuse to.

Leon is very much stunned speechless when you go and kiss his knuckles without any warning being given to him, his heart quickly flying up into his throat as he stares down at you, utterly dumbfounded. This was... definitely the last thing he expected you to do, especially after such a heartfelt sentiment that left him feeling rather choked up as it is. He feels a rush of warmth traveling up to his face, causing him to choke on his own words for a good minute. He struggles to find the right words as various emotions overwhelm him all at once. But they didn't feel heavy or painful, like the crushing guilt for those he couldn't protect, or the suffocating ache of betrayal that Ada's deception left him with. 

This was lighter, giving him a much-needed break from all the depressing thoughts and questions buzzing on the front of his mind. But, ironically this was also so much more nerve-wracking to navigate.

He didn't know which on which emotion to focus on, which one to express to you, and whether or not he should express anything at all.

Gratitude for your unconditional comfort. Guilt for making you comfort him in the first place. Confusion at your sudden show of gentle affection he didn't know how to respond to. An inexplicable fluttering sensation making his guts feel all queasy.

You not saying anything to address what just happened doesn't help much with the chaos happening inside his head.

"You..." although he starts speaking, he trails off once again, cursing at himself inside his own head.

You don't seem bothered at all by his lack of a reply. In fact, Leon is kind of uncertain if you even want him to reply in the first place. It doesn't seem like you expect much from him at all. And the situation between you is already too complicated as it is, without all the added weirdness taking place right now. Maybe you didn't want to talk about it at all.

Though, the notion of you simply kissing him like that, without expecting anything from him in return is... more moving than he was willing to admit.

So, despite his disbelief and the whirlwind of emotions wrecking havoc on his already frazzled mind, he just keeps looking at you like. Like a loyal puppy looking at its owner and trying to figure them out. Truth be told, he simply cannot bring himself to look away from you right now, not with the memory of your brief kiss to his knuckles now etched into his mind. Regardless of its simplicity and innocence, the kiss has a deeper meaning for him. Suddenly, he finds himself being struck by your simple beauty: how tired and fragile you truly seem to him in this moment. In a way, you look just like him. Exhausted and battered, but carrying on regardless. There was a certain authentic charm in your disheveled appearance. He finds himself yearning to reach out and hold your hand, to bring your own fingers up to his lips, like you did for him.

...But before he can do or say any of that, you sigh and lift yourself up from your kneeling position beneath him. You release his hands, your thumbs gently brushing along the sides of his palms one last time before you warmth slips away from him completely. Leon continues to watch as you move away from him, feeling an unexpected sense of disappointment coiling deep in his gut despite his efforts to ignore it. He tries his damnest to dismiss this unpleasant feeling, convincing himself to concentrate on whatever you choose to do next instead. Though he does kind of feel like some lovesick puppy, unable to look away from you even for a damn second.

You quickly sit back up onto the motel bed beside him, your eyes traveling up and down his form quietly. He knows you're probably just overlooking his injuries, but he suddenly feels nervous and almost self-conscious under your attention, nonetheless. Mostly because he wants to know what you think of him. Not as a patient, but as a man. He does appear visibly better, though, now that he's at least no longer wearing that dirty, bloody bandage around his shoulder, and his smaller cuts and bruises have been properly cleaned from the stray dirt and blood stuck on them. But he's definitely seen better days.

"-Claire and Sherry sure are taking their time," you say softly, breaking the silence.

"Y-Yeah, they are. They've been gone for a while now. I'm sure they're fine, though. Claire can handle herself," he agrees, his voice sounding strangely squeaky even to his own ears. He cringes inwardly, clearing his throat. His mind continues to race, with thoughts swirling like a tornado within his head. Feeling restless, he shifts uncomfortably on the bed, unable to find the right position.

He's fully aware that his behavior has become noticeably more quiet and reserved compared to before, and he can't help but feel slightly annoyed with himself for making things awkward between you. But he doesn't really know what else to do. Whether you want him to talk about that kiss or not. If he's making a bigger deal out of it than it really is.

If you would be willing to do that again...

He runs his fingers through his unkempt hair with a quiet huff, the subtle sensation of your lips brushing against his knuckles both a blessing and a curse. He's definitely the weird one here. Claire probably would have laughed her ass off at him right now, and he can't really blame her. His gaze is fixed on you, his eyes lingering on your face for far longer than necessary, trying to read between the lines, to figure out what you're thinking in that head of yours. He's itching to say something, anything, to break the weighty silence that has now enveloped the small, confined room... but the words continue to stubbornly elude him. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat again, almost like something got stuck in there. But, really, he is simply suddenly overtaken by a strong desire for physical contact with you. One he isn't sure what to do with.

You shake your head and speak up again, for which he is definitely grateful, his mind instantly rushing to cling to your words. Anything to escape from the rising disarray his head is in.

"Well, hey, at least it gave us a chance to patch you up properly."

You glare at the old bandage, stained with blood from his shoulder's bullet wound, that you had taken off earlier and left crumpled on the floor. As Leon once again remembers the wound on his shoulder, he trembles slightly, following your gaze down at the blood-stained bandage lying on the floor. He finds that cute. How you almost scrunch your nose up at that dirty thing. Like it's a living thing that caused him so much problems.

Despite him being very much shirtless, he still feels a bit too hot for his liking.

"I guess it did, yeah," he says, his voice sounding rather strained. Restlessly, he shifts on the bed again, desperately searching for something else to talk about. However, his mind stubbornly keeps returning to the sensation of your lips on his skin, and an unfamiliar longing gradually rises within him, tugging at his heartstrings...

But longing for what exactly?

He suppresses his thoughts and bites his tongue, feeling a bit embarrassed by the intensity of his desire. He feels like a complete idiot. Getting all worked up over nothing. He glances at you once again, his eyes lingering on your face momentarily before dropping to your hands resting in your lap.

"Uh... thanks again, by the way. You know. For taking care of me and all," he blurts out, trying to resist the temptation to reach out and hold your hand, his own hands now clenching into fists on either side of him on the bed.

"No problem. We're a team, remember?" you say in a more cheerful manner, giving him a slight smile. One that he returns almost on a whim. Though, as you look at him a bit closer, you hum and reach back for the antibacterial cream. Before he knows it, he feels the pads of your fingers dabbing the cool cream on the side of his cheek. You applying the cream to his cheek leaves him feeling a slight sting, but the warmth of your touch on his skin helps to distract him from it. He didn't even realize he had a cut there. He's pretty sure it was relatively tiny. It wasn't really needed at all to take care of it, but you still did it anyway, and your smile grew a little wider as you pulled your hand away. "-There. Good as new. Y'know... ignoring the bullet wound, huge scary bruises and a good number of cuts."

Despite knowing he's far from 'good as new', Leon can't help but laugh at your playful comment. It helps him relax a little, some weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, keep making fun of me. You didn't like it so much when those dogs were trying to bite your face off, huh?" A small smirk forms on his face as he teases you back in a lighthearted manner that a good friend would. Though,  the subject is rather... morbid. But it helps to joke about those things. A little.

He wants to say more, to come up with something witty or charming, maybe even muster up some cheesy pick-up lime to try and see if he can get away with it. But as he glances at you again, his words become stuck in his throat all over again. It's impossible for him not to focus on your face, taking in every tiny detail and drinking them all in with a hunger that feels almost scarily insatiable. This particular moment between you two has an oddly charged quality to it, as if there's more than just friendly banter filling the stale air of the motel room. He feels an intense and unexplainable desire to be closer to you, to touch you, to...

He swallows hard, trying to push these invasive thoughts out of his head. He chastises himself internally for being absurd. After all, you're just a friend and teammate. Supposedly. Whatever you were to him, his behavior is strange, like an infatuated teenager with a pathetic crush he has no idea what to do with. For fuck's sake, he is a 21-year-old police officer.

...Technically speaking, that is.

But he lacks any sort of control over his heart rate or sweaty palms. He can't help but look down at your lips repeatedly, as if he's being persuaded to do so against his own will.

As you let out a weary sigh of your own, you seem to be utterly oblivious to the inner struggle he is currently experiencing unbeknownst to you. The room is quiet, but your troubled and contemplative gaze is fixed ahead of you instead of looking at him. Leon doesn't know if that makes him feel better or worse. A huge, pathetic part of him wants your eyes to be on him, to be your center of attention like he was moments prior. But another part of him is utterly mortified at the prospect, knowing he'll probably just fumble like an idiot if you were to meet his blatant stare right now.

He's stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The shutter cracks welcome the morning sunlight in, creating long, bright yellow stripes across your features. You look beautiful like this, but he can't help but want to know what's on your mind that has you looking so distant, like you're in a world completely separate from this one. And them, much like you did with the kiss to his knuckles, you don't say anything to warn him. He just watches as you lean down and rest your head on his good shoulder. You remain silent, immersed in your own thoughts. Almost like it's a completely normal thing to do between you two. Or maybe you just don't want to address it? He couldn't really figure it out. He couldn't figure you out. And he couldn't really figure himself out, either. 

Everything was a big, convoluted mess.

Another strong rush of emotions hits him straight across the face at the sudden closeness you grace him with. It's funny, really. Here he was, wanting to get all close and personal with you, and now that that's exactly what's happening, his brain is completely blank. He makes an effort to take a deep breath, but it comes out shaky and uneven. He is also suddenly acutely aware of his own lack of clothing on his upper half. He longs to express himself to you in some meaningful way, but still finds himself unable to say a single damn word. A chaotic mix of thoughts and cravings overwhelms his mind, taking over his every sense. Gradually, he does manage to bring himself to move. To extend his arm and gently drape it around your shoulders, drawing you in closer to him, watching how you'd react and if he should pull back and shower you with awkward apologies that were already forming on the tip of his tongue. He can sense the gentle, rhythmic pulsation of your heart against his bare skin, and that feeling is almost intoxicating in how soothing it is.

He kind of wishes he could lay his head down directly on your chest, just to listen to your heartbeat. That would certainly keep his head empty of any and all thoughts, big and small.

You make a soft noise that sounds like one of approval, moving slightly closer to him, your bodies now comfortably intertwined in a clumsy side-snuggle. A surge of protectiveness suddenly comes over Leon when you cuddle closer to him like that. Silently, he squeezes you a just a little bit tighter, letting a pleasant shiver run down his spine as your body touches his, filling out the dips and contours of his form with your own, almost like two puzzle pieces fitting together. The gesture holds an undeniable amount of intimacy, and he feels a strong desire to just keep holding you and never let go.

Now, Leon finds himself being silent to conserve the moment, rather than due to awkwardness. There is a delicate sense of wordless understanding and reliance that has formed between you, without it having to be solely platonic or romantic in nature. He's uncertain how to interpret it exactly, and whether you even want him to interpret it in some specific way. For now, he simply acknowledges that your warm presence near him sooths him in a way that he desperately needs, regardless of what that entails for you two. In a way, it gives him a feeling of calmness he was longing for this entire time. A brief reprieve from all the chaos and uncertainty of the past, present,  and future.

He leans forward, carefully placing his chin on top of your head, and then closes his eyes, focusing on nothing but the soft feeling of your body pressed against his. He can hear the soft and soothing sound of your breath and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, which makes him feel strangely...

At peace.

He can feel you nuzzle into him ever so slightly, clearly being careful not to disturb his achy shoulder, which makes him smile fondly, finding the gesture endearing in a pure and uncomplicated manner. It is comforting to not be alone, in a fundamentally human sense. Maybe he needed a moment such as this one for a while now. He just didn't know that until he had it.

Leon inhales the scent of your hair as he takes a deep breath. It smells of motel's cheap shampoo, which is unsurprising. All four of them probably smell the same right now. But he doesn't really care. He is unable to resist the urge to bury his nose into your hair slightly, as if attempting to absorb your scent. Is that a bit weird on his part? Maybe. But he feels far too content to care about his dignity at this point.

Tgough, the moment breaks rather abruptly, as you move pull back from him, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. Leon feels a familiar sense of disappointment deep in his gut when you withdraw from him, but he tries his best to conceal it from you, not wanting to appear too needy in front of you. Even if he really was needy. Despite his heart still racing, he shakes it off and attempts to appear unaffected. Very poorly.

"...Sorry. You must be cold like that. The cream probably settled already, so..." you mutter out without looking at him directly, but he cuts you off, the words leaving the tip of his tongue before he can think them through.

"It's fine," his tone is gruff. "I'm not cold."

Despite being aware that there is nothing inherently intimate about this situation, he still feels oddly exposed in front of you. The thought of you observing his bare skin out in the open only increases his already fast-paced heartbeat. After all the events of the night before, it feels... strange to feel his blood pumping in his temples, and it not being a result of something horrifying or life-threatening. He attempts to divert his eyes from you, but they persistently return back to your face. He was being drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Though, your warmth was nothing like one coming from a flame. He wasn't scared of you burning him if he gets too close. No, rather, he was terrified of your gentle light to turn off, leaving him without its comforting warmth to grasp onto.

He can't help but focus on your lips in particular, already reminiscing about the moment you kissed his knuckles. His thoughts are now pretty much haunted by this one memory, replaying it incessantly like a broken record.

Don't give in, don't give in, don't give in...

He repeats it to himself in his own head, but he finds it increasingly harder and harder to follow his own advice. His hands are clenched tightly on his lap, causing his bruised knuckles ache in protest. But it's all he can do to resists the urge to reach out to you, and...

"-Sorry," you suddenly repeat, your attention fully focused on his tightly clenched hands. Damn it, you probably think he's uncomfortable or something. He can see that guilty look in your eyes, and he hates it. He doesn't want you to look at him like that. "I... didn't mean to make things weird. Don't worry about it. I don't-"

Leon shakes his head, but keeps looking straight at your face dutifully. His heart is beating so fast that it seems like it could burst straight out of his chest any moment now, eager to show you how excited you truly make him with the smallest of things. It's becoming almost too much for him to handle the desire to kiss you. And not just your knuckles.

"No... it's not that," he protests in a slightly hoarse voice. His words stop as he shifts his eyes down to your lips again and then back up to meet your hesitant gaze, searching for something he can't really put his finger on. He is able to see every aspect of your face crystal clear in the soft light of the morning sun: the way your eyelashes create faint shadows on your cheeks, the gentle curve of your lips, the subtle color flush on your skin. "You didn't make things weird. I just..."

Your lashes flutter, your body tensing ever so slightly as you finally take notice of his very apparent staring, causing Leon to hold his breath momentarily. A part of him expects to receive a scolding he probably deserves. But it never comes. Instead, an unexpected sense of tension settles between you, catching him completely off guard and leaving him uncertain about where this was going exactly. Or maybe he just doesn't want to acknowledge the truth. Even so, he allows it to persist and guide him without any resistance or attempts to distance himself from you. Not that he wants to resist this pull in the first place.

He can almost taste the saltiness of your skin on his lips. He can almost hear the soft sound of your breath. And he can almost sense the subtle scent that is uniquely yours. The emotional intimacy between you is almost too much for him handle. So, without much thought, he moves in and gently cups your cheek, lifting your face towards his, wanting - no, needing - to be closer to you.

"...Leon?"

The subtle sound of your voice uttering his name causes his heart to stop momentarily. He can see it in your eyes that you do understand the silent implication behind this sudden action of his. After all, clarification is not exactly necessary to catch on to what he trying to do here. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers sends a slight shiver through his body. Despite this, your eyes remain locked together, almost as if you were sharing a wordless conversation between each other.

Leon swallows. He gently strokes your lower lip with his thumb, relishing in the sensation of it beneath his fingertip. Even if it's chapped and dry from last night's events. His voice is just a soft whisper now as he voices the silent question that's on the forefront of his mind: "...Can I kiss you?"

There is a moment of hesitation between you, but you don't move to pull away or reject him. He can guess that you're mulling over your own thoughts and doubts in that pretty head of yours. Though he wishes he could know what you're thinking of right now. If you want this as much as he does. But he waits patiently for you to share your answer with him once you do find it. Whatever it may be.

And then, you give him a slow nod.

As you stare back at him, Leon feels a sudden tightness in his throat. He knows he's being a bit too emotional about all of this, but your little nod feels like an agreement, approval, and acceptance all at once. Without any further delay, he leans in and gently cups your other cheek now as well, holding your face in his palms, letting your breaths mix for just a smidge of a moment.

Is it a wise decision? Clearly not. You've just met. The fact that you were able to survive a dangerous and challenging situation together doesn't alter that fact. However... in a way, it still does. Leon feels secure with you. The unspoken trust built between you two is difficult to articulate in words. The kind of trust that can only form when you experience a challenging ordeal only you can understand the full extent of. Which is why he doesn't try to explain it. Not when you two can explore it through action, instead.

When he does finally lean towards you, you meet him halfway, much to his relief, your lips inevitably locking together lightly. He closes his eyes and drinks in the delicate sensation of warmth and comfort that comes from sharing this simple human contact with you. The sensation of your lips on his makes Leon's mind blissfully empty. He resists the urge to embrace you tightly and hold you close. Compared to the intense passion he feels burning within his chest, the kiss itself feels hesitant and almost innocent in nature. Nonetheless, it triggers a pleasant surge of heat in his veins. He can feel the warm of your hand on his skin as you place it atop of one of his own hands cradling your cheeks, causing his heart to beat even faster within his chest.

Your circumstances don't make it particularly romantic or mind-blowing. The kiss is a bit clumsy, as first kisses usually are, when you don't exactly know how to fall into step with the other person yet. Your lips are dry and cracked, just like his are, due to the previous night. There is even a faint taste of blood that can be felt in the kiss, as one of you definitely split their lip during the numerous falls you both endured. However, none of that is a major issue for him. If anything, it makes it more precious in his mind. How real and authentic it feels.

The kiss is a soft and lingering one that doesn't extend beyond that.

And when you eventually pull apart from one another, concluding the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed tightly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Your hand remains on top of his, the touch bringing him a nice feel of wordless reassurance. That you're really there. That you did just kiss, and it wasn't just some weird trick of his frazzled mind.

You weren't going away. Nor were you asking anything of him with that kiss. It was just a kiss. No hidden meanings or agendas in mind. Somehow, that makes it all that much more meaningful for him.

There is a strange sense of vulnerability he has to get used to, both physically and emotionally. The intensity of his emotions causes his body to tremble slightly against you. He remains close to you like this for a couple of long minutes, unprepared for the enchanting moment to come to its inevitable end. He absorbs the subtle scent of your hair hitting his nose, the warm sensation of your skin on his, and the soothing sound of your breath. He longs for this moment to last, and finding his voice again after kissing becomes a rather difficult task.

You also exhale, calming down after that short but sweet moment of connection with him. You don't express much about what just happened between you. You don't think it's even necessary. You simply know that it was sincere and enjoyable. And it seems that Leon felt the same way, too. At least you hope he does. Whatever that meant for your relationship in the long run, you know you don't regret it. You keep your eyes shut for a few more moments, staying close to him.

"Y/N..." he whispers your name in a low voice that sounds almost shy. You can't help but find the sound of him like this rather adorable, your heart giving out a subtle flutter in your chest.

Leon opens his eyes slightly, the blues of his irises meeting yours intently as you follow suit. The soft kiss you just shared is still running through your heart, leaving you feeling just slightly giddy. As you often do after kissing someone you like for the first time. And that dopey look of his is just too damn cute to bear.

So, you blurt out the first thing you that comes to mind. 

"...You know, I actually hate cops."

Leon blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

...Alright, that was probably not the most romantic thing to say right after kissing him for the first time.

"Uh... Really?" he manages to ask, even though he's obviously still very much dazed from the kiss. Which is honestly kind of endearing, considering how it was just a short but sweet little kiss. You can't help but wonder how he'd look if you kissed him again, properly this time. How he would look at you if you were to lean in and kiss him senseless. But you don't do that. For now, at least. Either way, it's obvious that the emotional whiplash you just gave him with your silly comment only contributed to the stupefied look he's giving you. "But you just kissed one..."

Leon's lips form a small but genuine smile as he lets out a quiet little laugh, a clear hint of disbelief in his voice. You feel his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks gently as he continues to hold your face in his hands, the sensation warm and comforting to your heart.

"Huh. You're right. I guess I'm being a bit hypocritical today," you chortle, a small giggle leaving your lips in return. You can see his smile growing in response to your laugh, and it's a sight a bit too adorable for you right now.

He has a pretty smile.

"I guess you are," he agrees, his eyes briefly glancing over your face, as if he was taking in your features. Or maybe he was just marveling at how beat up you look. "But I don't mind. I think... I sort of like you being hypocritical. Just a little."

With another soft laugh, you gently squeeze his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to the side slightly and resting your face against his palm, practically nuzzling into a bit. You press his hand closer to your cheek and close your eyes for a moment, a content sigh leaving your lips. Your peaceful expression of serenity mirrors Leon's, as he looks on at you with that same sense of quiet satisfaction and solace that was filling the quiet space between you.

Your chest tightens as you feel his thumbs stroke your skin again, the touch gentle and light. The soothing warmth and softness of his skin on yours causes your heart to skip a beat. You suddenly find yourself seriously struggling to resist the urge to kiss him again. It wasn't just a passing curious thought anymore, but a genuine desire you are itching to fulfill. But, for now, you just exhale and enjoy this fragile moment as it is. At this very minute, all the chaos and peril you two have dealt with vanish from your mind at long last. Replaced by this tranquil, modest motel room, reserved only for you and him. At the very least, for this brief moment.

Unfortunately, your little exchange is abruptly interrupted by the earth-shattering sound of a door suddenly bursting open, none other than Claire entering the compact room without any warning given to either of you. That, or maybe you two were just far too lost in each other to hear the approaching footsteps or chatter. A peppy grin is brightening up the redhead's features as she strides in with no care in the world, seemingly far too engrossed into some vigorous discussion with Sherry to fully notice you quite yet. If it wasn't for the situation at hand, you'd probably comment on how buddy-buddy they looked: swaggering in hand-in-hand, almost like two sisters would. 

The entire space is quickly overpowered with the strong aroma of freshly cooked greasy food, and you immediately feel your stomach twist and turn in clear demand for some much-needed sustenance. The bags of what looked like your standard roadside diner takeout sure looked promising right about now.

"Rise and shine, dynamic duo! Breakfast's here- Oh."

As Claire's bright eyes inevitably land on the two of you, she stops right in her tracks, just blinking at you for a second or two. Sherry, in turn, appears to be just as surprised, not that you expected anything else at this point. 

...And you feel a strong urge to sink straight into the ground.

As if he's been burned, Leon abruptly jerks away from you and releases his hold on your face. Your heart pounds all the way up in your throat, and you can already feel the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face. Glancing over at Leon, he doesn't seem to be handling it all that much better, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted in silent protest that just didn't form yet. Though, there is also a subtle hint of embarrassed annoyance flashing through his eyes as he meets Claire's look. A look that is no longer surprised, but instead, expecting. And a bit smug.

You're in for a questioning. 

As expected, she is quick to regain her cool, raising her brows at both of you and closing the door with her hips, an incredulous snort leaving her lips. You can already guess that she's not going to live this down for the two of you. Before you can open your mouth and stutter out some type of excuse that would hopefully sound decent, Leon beats you to it.

"Jesus Christ, Claire! Knock much?" he grumbles out in a raspy and slightly trembling voice. If it wasn't for the burning embarrassment raging inside your head, you would have thought that was cute. He isn't really fooling anyone.

"Excuse me," Claire muses in a slightly humorous manner. "Care to tell what's gotten you shirtless? Or... who?"

Now it's up to you to sputter as you stumble over your words to try and rectify the situation.

"I-I was just changing his bandages!"

Claire just laughs at that, with Sherry now joining in a fit of giggles. The sound is lighthearted in nature, though. Just harmless fun that just happens to be at your expense. Well, partially. Your only choice is to accept your defeat, hanging your head low with a flustered groan. Leon's embarrassment only increases as laughter rings out. He crosses his arms over his chest, a pout quickly taking form on his face.

"Ugh, you two really have a knack for bad timing. And... for the record, it's none of your business what we were doing," even though he tries to sound irritated, his flushed face and the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips diminish the desired effect, making his effort useless.

"-Whatever you say, loverboy," Claire deadpans, giving you both a knowing smirk as she waves Leon off. It's apparent that she doesn't believe any of your shared excuses. Not that you can blame her. You'd probably act the same if you switched places. She takes her sweet time placing the warm fast-food bags on the nearest counter and brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Anyway, you better get dressed before the grub gets cold and soggy."

In spite of all the embarrassment, you can't help but chuckle sheepishly and shake your head. Despite being flustered, it's almost... comforting to share such a normal, simple moment over some silly accident instead of a high-stakes situation. You'll take getting teased by Claire over running for your life any day.

You watch as Leon huffs and puffs at Claire fruitlessly. He mumbles something inaudible under his breath, unfolding his arms, and quickly walking across the room to pick up his discarded shirt from the ground. He hastily puts it back on, all while stealing a couple of glances back at you. You don't know if he's trying to subtle about it, but if he is, it's definitely not working. A small, almost bashful smile appears on his face as he does, similar to the one you give to your crush when you think they're not looking. It's cute. You can't help but return it with a smile of your own.

"Well I think you two look cute," Sherry joins in, her hands resting on her hips as her blue eyes dart between you two with eager curiosity. You can already tell that you're in for a game of 20 questions after this. Or something similar.

"Cute, huh...?" Sherry's charming comment seems to inspire Leon's bashful smile to grow in confidence while he looks down at her. He almost appears a bit cheeky, as raises an eyebrow and gives you a quick side-eyed look. "What do you think? Do we make a cute couple?"

"...Don't get cocky now," you huff out with a lighthearted roll of your eyes, prompting him and Claire to chuckle.

As you go to grab some much-needed food, you feel oddly light, both in mind and spirit. All the anxieties and uncertainties about your future seem to have eased away, letting you enjoy the peacefulness of now, instead of worrying about tomorrow.

Whatever happens next, you just know that everything will turn out fine.

As long as you stick together.

[megan-is-mia]

Could I ask for Peacock Vil with #209? Like he's in his mating season and she is rejecting all his advances.

(This one is kind of long sorry) 209. “The way you say my name feel so fucking good…keep saying it.” (Yandere! Peacock Vil Schoenheit x Fem! S/o) (WARNING NSFW AND NON-CON AHEAD!)

Ever since she was a young girl (Y/n) had known what her future would be. Born to a concubine in the Peacock King’s harem there was only one fate open to her: to become a harem-girl like her mother before her and serve her master obediently. This fact had been drilled into her since toddlerhood. Yet there was something that gave her hope and kept her from fully accepting her destiny. She had a special friend, a secret friend who lived in the castle as well. They’d never seen each other’s faces but spoke to one another every day through a hole in the wall between the two grand gardens of the palace. Her friend called themself Scélérat, and they loved two things: knowledge and beauty. Each day they would teach (Y/n) new things they’d learned from the books in the library.

With every scrap of knowledge (Y/n) gained she found new strength in herself. When she was with Scélérat she wasn’t just a lowly harem girl, she was a person who mattered in this world. Yet as the years went by things began to change, she began to be plagued with more and more duties to make her into the ideal concubine. Even worse the Peacock King’s son Vil demanded that she become his personal servant and tend to him daily.

“(Y/n) why do you stand so far from my side? Come closer darling I won’t bite” Vil cooed as he lounged back on the chaise longue and gestured for the servant to come closer. (Y/n) grit her teeth but obeyed, she despised the peacock-man and his father and everything they stood for. If it wasn’t for the king and the prince, she and her mother would not be bound to a life of sexual servitude.

Vil pulled (Y/n) down into his lap as she came closer, she had grown more beautiful than he could ever have hoped for. He still remembered with total clarity when he’d first met her, back when they were children still innocent of heart. She’d been crying in the garden and he’d spoken to her through the wall. (Y/n) had spilled out her sorrows to him and he felt his heartache for the first time in his life.

He hadn’t told her his name then, for that would have ruined everything. To her, he would be Scélérat, someone she could always depend on to be there for her and lift her up. But as time has gone by their meetings had grown shorter and less frequent, it was not her fault that she wasn’t able to meet him. (Y/n) was blooming into a beautiful young woman and therefore she had to know her duties as a concubine.

That didn’t mean he would let her slip away from him. Sure for now she may not love him as Prince Vil, but he would win her yet. He was sure of it, she had no choice in the matter. When he became king he would dismiss most of the harem that his father had amassed. Of course, he would make sure the concubines went to good homes but he would not need so many women to keep him happy. The only woman he needed to be happy was (Y/n), she would be his queen in all but name. He wished he could make her queen proper but he knew patience would be key to being successful in his endeavors. If he gave her that power before he knew for certain that she was loyal to him everything could go down in flames. Vil could not let the love in his heart cloud his judgment on the matter.

(Y/n) hated how intimately the prince touched her. His hands made her skin crawl and she felt like she needed to scrub her skin clean after every encounter with him. The other harem girls gossiped that she must be his favorite since she was the only girl he’d ever called to his chambers. However, she did not care whether or not she was the prince’s favorite for she would never care for him.

For her heart already belonged to another, her beloved Scélérat, yes they were her beloved. Though she had never had the courage to tell them of her feelings for them and now she was unlikely to ever have the chance to tell them with the prince hoarding her time and body. The only relief she had was the fact the prince and king’s mating season would soon start and none would be allowed near their rooms nor them. Perhaps in this downtime (Y/n) would gain from the prince’s season she’d be able to speak to Scélérat again and set things straight. However, until the season started she would be quite busy with Prince Vil. In the week leading up to his mating season, the prince began acting strangely towards her. One could almost call it affectionate, the way he spoke to her and tried to shower her in gifts of clothes and jewelry. “He must be trying to court you” another harem girl suggested when (Y/n) spoke of her concerns one evening. “The gift-giving, the affectionate words, the only sensible explanation is that his more bestial brain is piloting and he wants you to be his mate” she added making (Y/n) cringe with disgust. Her? The prince’s mate? No way! There was no way she would ever become the prince’s mate!

Yet despite her unwillingness, she found herself being locked in with the prince on the day his rut started. At first, he seemed totally unaware of her presence in the room, jerking furiously on his bed and grunting in a low voice. This was a side of Vil she’d never seen before, who was this unrefined creature unable to think of anything but sex? She could almost feel pity for him, almost.

(Y/n) was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice when the prince had given up trying to pleasure himself and was creeping towards her. Suddenly she found herself being pulled and forced down on the bed as Vil climbed atop of her with a lecherous grin. (Y/n) grimaced and tried to kick him off even as he leaned down to capture her lips in a hungry kiss and ran his hands down her sides.

“Finally, I have you where I want you… I’ve been waiting for this day for years” Vil said in a coo as he pulled away from the kiss. “Ever since we were young I knew you were the one for me my darling” he added leaning in for another kiss. (Y/n) turned her head away confused by the prince’s words. “What… What are you talking about! You aren’t making any sense!” she said, trying to kick him again. “Even when we’re this close to one another you still don’t recognize me? You cannot recognize your oldest friend?” the prince said, leaning down to speak in (Y/n)’s ear. “Your dear Scélérat sits before you and yet you do not see?” he whispered before pressing a kiss to her ear. This revelation froze (Y/n) to her core, the prince… he was the one she’d loved for so long? Impossible! She could not accept, she would not accept this to be true!

“I don’t believe you! You must be lying! Scélérat is a good person, unlike you! He would never let me remain a harem girl if he had the power to free me like you do!” (Y/n) said in a hiss. “Oh I have every intention of freeing you, just not yet… first I must become king so I can make you my wife” Vil said nuzzling the young woman playfully. “But such serious matters can wait until another day, let us enjoy each other’s company” he concluded.

(Y/n) knew exactly what he meant by “enjoy each other’s company” and she wanted none of it. She tried to push him away again even as he kissed down her front, yanking her top down to lavish her breasts with attention. (Y/n) had never had the curiosity to try touching herself in such a matter and as such her body jolted with the new sensations Vil forced upon her with his mouth and hands.

“You saved yourself for me didn’t you darling?” the peacock-man said with a croon, his hands darting further down (Y/n)’s body to run down her thighs. “I wish I had the patience to wait until our wedding night to do this… but I suppose there really is nothing wrong with getting started on making an heir right?” he mused to himself as the young woman below him felt her blood run cold. Her? Carry the prince’s heir? She couldn’t think of many things worse than bearing a child for this man! Perhaps she could stop him from doing this tonight? Maybe she could spare herself such a fate by taking command now? (Y/n) reached down clumsily searching for the prince’s cock and taking it firmly in her grip. Without hesitation, she began jerking him off quickly as he began to buck into her hold. “Mmmph fuck that feels so good” Vil said, his tail feathers spreading behind him as he fucked himself into the girl’s fist and let his head lol back in pleasure. It didn’t take long for him to cum messily onto (Y/n)’s body with a weak grin. “That was delightful darling, now allow me to return the favor” the prince said situating himself between the girl’s thighs. He pulled her undergarments aside before pressing his mouth to her cunt. This was not what she had wanted to have happen! She’d touched him hoping that it would be enough to please him so he wouldn’t impregnate her. He wasn’t supposed to try and return the favor of pleasuring! (Y/n) weakly kicked at the prince as he sucked on her clit and drove his tongue deep into her cunt. It felt like he was trying to clean her insides out with his mouth and she could feel her eyes rolling back in her skull. “P-puh-prince Vil!” (Y/n) squealed desperately and to her surprise, the peacock-man stopped. “The way you say my name feel so fucking good…keep saying it” the prince groaned out before he began tongue-fucking her again. It didn’t take long until the harem girl was seeing white and cumming all over Vil’s face. He licked up her release greedily before spreading her legs and scooting so his cock brushed against her pussy.

“I’ll try to be gentle, considering this is your first time… but I can't promise I won’t lose control” Vil cooed before starting to sink into (Y/n)’s depths. It didn’t take much before the young woman was squirming with discomfort. The prince was so big compared to her and his cock was just as proportionally big. The kisses that he pressed to her face did nothing to ease the pain he was causing her at this moment. “Hold on for me darling… I just need to get all the way in and then I'll make you feel really good” the prince promised. He continued to sink into her, stretching her like she’d never been stretched before. His fingers teased her clit made it almost bearable but still it wasnt enough to take the pain away. Finally, Vil was all the way in and let out a long gasp. He nuzzled (Y/n)’s shoulder before kissing it.

“You feel so tight around me… it feels amazing… I'm going to make you feel amazing too” the peacock-man said, his tail feathers shaking with delight. He pulled back a little bit before slamming back into (Y/n) with a grunt. He repeated this action over and over again each time striking a spot deep inside the harem girl’s cunt that made her see stars and moan for him like he wanted. Gradually Vil’s movements got faster and faster, gripping the bedframe as he fucked (Y/n) with all his might. The young woman came so many times yet the prince showed no signs of wearing out despite the many times he had also cum as he pounded her into the bed. “I’m gonna plant an entire nest in your womb darling… you’ll like that won’t you? Soon you’ll be a wife, a mother, and a queen just like you deserve…” THE END

[prettyboykatsuki]

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from then to now, does it ache? | t. touya 

➳ tags ;; spoilers from bnha manga (chap. 290), angst, hurt/comfort, ooc / soft dabi cause this was a vent fic for me </3, 

➳ wc ;; 1k 

➳ plot ;; so you know now. what next? 

➳ a/n ;; this is a repost from my old blog that i deleted. he makes me sad so much.. so sad. 

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“So you know,”

Dabi is tired. His head is laid against the drywall, the paint chipped off and sticking out in pieces all over the place. His eyes are open but his vision is hazy. Unable to decipher some things from others.

You look at him, chest tight. You nod.

“So I know,”

It’s unspoken. Like most things are with Dabi. With Touya. His hair looks so starkly different you just barely recognize his appearance. It’s not that thats what makes you feel safe anyways. Dabi smells like leather, and ash. Dabi feels like the buzz of shitty beer and late nights. Dabi is home.

Everything between you two had always been much like his life. Tracing the shadows that danced along the wall was just how you lived. This is not a love-story. The implicit happiness in that isn’t something Dabi could ever knowingly subscribe too. His path had been too grueling.

So, Dabi doesn’t call it love. When he knocks on your bedroom door and crawls in next to you after long missions, speaking openly - he doesn’t mistake it for intimacy. Just like the name he’s given himself, he leaves no room for question. It just is. When he reaches out for you in the darkness, or openly pines for your companionship after too many drinks, he chooses not to call it love.

“So?,” you speak first. It takes him by surprise. His eyes widen just a little before he falls into a confused squint. His bleary vision still makes your silhouette in the dimly lit room.

“So?,” he parrots. You smile. It’s warm. Not hot. It doesn’t burn Dabi at all. The mellowness in your movements puts him at ease. His shoulders slump softly as he waits for your clarification. It feels like something inside of him has cracked open. Emotions he hasn’t felt since he was little suddenly make their way into his throat - his heart leaping into his mouth. He feels like he’s gonna puke.

Don’t ask, his brain begs. He doesn’t know whats going on. Like he can’t keep ahold of himself, his fingers shake. You know Dabi better than he knows himself. In fact, you always have. His subconscious knows this fact and cowers at your presence. Dabi is seldom scared.

“So how do you feel?,”

What an inane, innocuous question.  Dabi doesn’t feel anything. He hasn’t felt anything in a long time. Except you. Only some who already understands Dabi perfectly could be in his proximity after something like that and still feel safe enough to ask questions. Not that Dabi would ever hurt you

Dabi isn’t supposed to feel anything. Feelings get in the way. Human inconsistencies that cause people to make mistakes. How his fathers feelings got in the way of his morality. Most feelings are selfish and worthless. Dabi is a monster, not a person. He doesn’t make connections that just get in the way.

But, he can’t bring himself to look at you either. There is something truly enigmatic in the way you make Dabi... feel. He has long since abandoned feeling remorse because it would only ruin his goal. He can’t tarnish the only purpose he’s ever had. His goal to ruin Endeavor still hasn’t changed. He should feel good that at the very least, he’s destroyed the reputation of the man who ruined his life. Who made him a monster.

But, that’s not really what Dabi feels. His views on hero society remains unchanged but this doesn’t relieve him like it’s supposed too. Once the hysteria disappeared, once the cameras went off and it was just him and you - Dabi doesn’t fucking know. He doesn’t know how he is supposed to feel. How he does feel.

“I don’t know,” comes his reply. It’s an honest answer. Quietly, the floorboards creak as you stand up. You stretch a little, your feet padding softly on the floor. This place is too dingy for someone like you, he thinks. He wonders why you’ve decided to stay.

You sit down on his lap. He doesn’t push you away or scowl - the indifference emboldening you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, your hands softly make their way to his face. Your thumbs brush against his scarred skin - the tears that flow freely now making you giggle.

“I thought you singed your tear-ducts, Mr. Villain,” you joke. He’s crying? Since when, he wonders. Your touch is soft and gentle. Tender in a way he hasn’t know since he was young. He shudders as you lean forward, soft lips pressing a kiss into his cheek and his nose.

“Guess not,” comes his reply. His throat is dry, oddly enough. You take your hand, cradling his neck as you bring his head to your shoulder.

“Do you still want me to call you Dabi?,” you ask.

He shakes his head against, distantly aware of the droplets of tears that fall onto your pants. He sighs harshly.

“I don’t know,” he says again. You nod. Running your fingers through his hair, you nod again. When Dabis arms  weakly found your middle, and when he squeezes you so tight you struggle for air - you don’t say a word. You just let him hold you. You let him mourn. You let him remember that he isn’t enough of a monster to really, truly feel nothing. That perhaps his humanity will always hold him hostage. 

But whatever name he has, whatever role he takes - villain or martyr, lover or team-mate, Touya or Dabi  - you know that it isn’t skin-deep. That if he was, then right now - he would feel nothing like he was supposed too.

“Hey,” you say softly. His wordless, frightened tears don’t hold  back but his grip loosens.  You don’t make him look at you, only hold him. Only love him as strongly as you can with your touch.

“I still love you,” you say first “I hope... you feel better,”

Your voice is just as soft as his mothers. What he once mistook for delusion, he knows recognizes as earnest. It’s terrifying. You mean it. He can’t say it back to you. It’s just too heavy.

But with a scratchy throat, a heavy heart, and hands that hold you waist so tightly you might bruise - he laughs, just a little. It too, is warm. It doesn’t burn you at all.

“Thanks,” he says back. It’s all he can really do.

And maybe that is enough.

Maybe he is enough, too.

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[ellsbclls]

The Fire Escape

warnings ➛ A couple of swear words here and there, mentions of death, endgame spoilers, and a dash of far from home erasure.

word count ➛ 4.7K

synopsis ➛ After the events of End Game, Peter Parker takes a break from his crime fighting persona, but when Spider-Man is called to a mission in Sokovia, he realizes that you might not be ready to handle the life of an Avenger’s girlfriend. There’s a little bit of angst, but not enough to keep you up at night.

“Y/N… Earth to Y/N.”

Peter ropes you back to reality with a light squeeze of your hand, a simple gesture that you return two-fold. On normal dates, the competition would ignite almost immediately, squeezing each other’s hands back and forth, under varying degrees of pressure, until one of you cried uncle — but this is far from a normal date.

It had started innocently enough. Peter had begged Dr.Banner to let him leave his “internship” an hour early just so he could surprise you at work. You assumed — after some superb groveling on Peter’s part — that Bruce agreed, because the end of your shift was met with a parchment wrapped dozen of blushing roses, accompanied by your equally blushing boyfriend. The two of you were able to snag one of the emptier carts on the N train, and were accompanied by a small Greek woman who sent a warm smile when you nestled your head into Peter’s shoulder. The smile disappeared as soon as he started using the poles as his personal jungle gym, but your laugh made up for its loss as he offered his hand out, begging you to join him with a Gene Kelly-esque flair. He ushered you into one of your favorite ramen places during your stroll down Ditmars, pulling out your chair when you were given a table, pretending not to notice how you snuck a noodle or two from his bowl when he wasn’t looking. Your heart felt so warm, you’re surprised it didn’t melt.

So why does everything seem so off now? You and Peter are walking side by side down 37th avenue, he’s rambling excitedly about some new enhancement he made to his web slingers, the evening breeze is kissing your cheeks as it waltzes around the autumn foliage, and somehow, you feel like you’re in the eye of a hurricane.

“Where’d you go?” Peter tries to reel you back in once more and succeeds, craning his head to meet your gaze.

“Oh, just a quick jog.” you tease. There’s a thin edge underlying your sarcasm, and you wonder if he can hear it, too. You’re only a block away from your apartment, and the tiny voice in the back of your mind rationalizes that nothing could ruin your impromptu date night if you were tucked away in your home — because you always feel safe when you’re home. Yet, with no solid evidence to confirm or deny the thought, you’re in a race with the block to dig through your purse.

“Oh, well don’t forget to warm up.” he teases back. His caramel hues, once alight with a mirthful glint, start to descend into an uneasy resolve that only confirms your suspicions, but you’re too occupied by the whereabouts of your keys to notice. “Speaking of warm up, actually, there’s something I have to ask you.”

“Shoot.” you reply offhandedly.

“Well, I- I don’t know how to say this.” The tremor in his voice is subtle, but just present enough to pull you from your search.   “There’s- uh- there’s something going on in Sokovia, or at least what’s left of it. There’s a lot of feedback coming off the maps, like a… a hotplate of cosmic activity, so Captain wants the entire team there.”

There it is — that dark cloud that hung over your head this evening finally drenches you in a sharp, cold blanket of realization. Your heart stops, aches, and then crumbles to the pit of your stomach, waiting to be washed away by the waves of terror that crash upon your airways, and despite the wash cycle of emotions you’ve just endured, you feel far from clean. In fact, everything feels heavy — from the weight of your heart to your ragged breath — paralyzed by the idea that each thump, each exhale, brings you closer to the moment where Peter has to leave.

You started dating a year and a half ago, and two years have passed since half of the population was restored to its rightful plane of existence. Iron Man’s death left a massive hole in Peter’s morale, as well as a nagging doubt that he would never be able to take on the mantle he was left with. So, for the first time since he was bitten by that radioactive spider, he cowered in the face of adversity. Not only had he lost a mentor, he had lost his friend — and when Tony Stark sacrificed his life, he was under the impression that the heroes he saved would continue to protect the world, but sometimes Peter wonders if that still reigns true. If Mr.Stark knew just how easily the team had crumbled, how easily he had crumbled, would he still leave? Three and a half years later and Peter still can’t find the answer.

Meanwhile, when it seemed like the world needed him most, Spiderman slipped into obscurity. Now he only makes an appearance when the newscast is a little too bleak to ignore, and even then, he usually sticks to the rogue bank heist or back alley mugging.

You try not to pry, knowing that each time you ask about his brief hiatus is like poking an open wound, and, albeit selfishly, you relish in the fact that your boyfriend isn’t throwing himself in harm's way. However, now seems like a better time than ever for an interrogation, seeing as this is not only the first Avengers mission he’s attended in your relationship, but the first mission to ever span past the Hudson.

No obstacle prior has conjured a looming sense of dread and anxiety as palpable as the one you’re toting now. You can already feel it bubbling in your chest, like a cauldron of endless toils, expelling a hazy fog that makes your head spin.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t give out on me now.” You don’t realize that your knees buckled beneath you until Peter comes to your rescue, and you silently wish that all of his heroic excursions could be this simple. The warmth of his hand bleeds past your winter coat and business casual blouse as it settles against the small of your back, and your body betrays you as it melts into his touch. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m actually not CPR certified.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Your mouth is bone dry, and you can barely muster a laugh convincing enough to counter his attempt at humor, so you don’t. You opt on settling your gaze upon the entrance of your building, just over Peter’s shoulder, and trying to ground yourself enough to stand without his help.

Peter’s hand still lingers on your form when you shuffle away from him, moving from the small of your back to the curve of your elbow. He can tell that you’re shaken, he expected that much from the get go, so he doesn’t leave your side, encroaching on the space you so obviously seek.  

“I don’t know- I don’t…” You muster just enough courage to counter his gaze, and a tiny frown creases between your brows, confusion riddling every other feature. “What exactly are you asking me?”

He pauses, searching for the answer himself. “Well, I guess- I just wanna know how you’re feeling.”

You chalk it up to your sudden sense of irritability, but his question just pisses you off. How dare he throw out a semblance of hope, a faulty impression, that you’d have any choice in this matter. You climb the three steps up to the front door, dolled up in dismay, and still try to find purchase in the illusion that you have any control in the matter. Maybe that’s what pushes you over the deep end, your once honeyed voice now curdled by venom — the hopelessness of it all. “Oh, I’m fine! I’m amazing, Peter. After the way you buttered me up all evening, how could I possibly be upset?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair-” Peter’s visibly taken aback, his features mimicking your own. You can see the cogs turning in his head, formulating some way to diffuse this situation before it really begins, but now that the gates are opened, it’s too late for you to hold anything back.

“Why not? Cause it’s the truth?” You cut him off, freshly manicured nails digging into your palms in an attempt to keep your tone even. “Let me tell you what’s not fair — You don’t even know how long you’re gonna be gone, do you?”

You’re met with a mutual silence, which confirms just how equally unaware you both are.

“Exactly.” At this point, your nerves are getting the best of you. Whether you lay all of your feelings out to him tonight or not, a sickening thought will remain — Peter is going to leave, and there’s a chance he won’t come back. So you persist, your hues boring into his own with each word. “You don’t know what it’s like to sit in our bed and wonder if you’re gonna be in it the next morning. You don’t know how terrifying it is to watch the news and pray to god that you’re not a part of it. You’re never going to be in my shoes when it comes to all of this, and I pray to god that you never have to be because I never want you to feel this way. That’s what’s not fair.” You wish your voice hadn’t grown weaker with each blow, you wish you could utter your last few thoughts with an unwavering certainty, but you know you can’t — not when a sob threatens to bubble up from the back of your throat. “That you can just decide to swing across the globe and put your life in danger while I sit at home and worry about you, and the worst part is that it only makes me love you more.”

“Y/N, do you think this is easy for me?” he’s never raised his voice at you, especially not like this, but it looks like tonight is a series of firsts for the both of you. “I haven’t been on a mission with the Avengers since high school, since —” Since Mr.Stark died. You know.

It’s not like he didn’t try to say it, he did, but the name just felt so foreign on his tongue. After years of inactivity, the threat of unearthing all those memories, all those bright eyed, bushy tailed endeavors, was almost as bad as remembering that he was gone — or even worse, not remembering them at all. But where could he retreat to now? He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between the thought of losing Mr.Stark, or the thought of losing you. His thoughts are raw and earnest as he tries to placate the latter. “I don’t want to leave you. It terrifies me to think of all the things that could happen to you while I’m gone —”

“Obviously it doesn’t scare you enough, because you’re still going!” You punch the last two words, as if you’re suddenly trying to talk to him from across the street.

“I don’t have a choice, Y/N! I don’t-”

Your argument skids to a screeching halt, rivaling the groan of the metal door that guards your apartment complex, and with it appears Ms.Nunez — the single mother that lives a floor below you, whose ability to juggle her graveyard shifts at the hospital with her two rambunctious toddlers is almost as impeccable as her timing.

She appears to be in a rush as she skirts past you, but not enough to stop her from sending Peter an all too knowing look — one that screams “what did you do to that poor girl?”, with only the view of your red, puffy eyes and guarded stance to back up her assumption.

And with an opportunity so golden laying at your feet, who are you to ignore it? You catch the door before it hits the frame and slip into the yellowed entryway, barreling up the stairwell before he can question her weighted stare. You leave Peter no choice but to slip past Ms.Nunez in your pursuit, without so much as a goodbye, but a few choice words still sit on the back of his tongue, waiting to be swallowed.

Normally, the five stories of stairs leaves you winded by the third, but you chalk your superhuman stamina up to adrenaline. Luckily for you, you’re able to reach the last flight of stairs as Peter climbs up the first. Unluckily for you, you seem to forget that your boyfriend actually does have superhuman stamina, and you swear to fucking god that he’s flying up the stairwell by the time you shut the door behind you.

The door slams twice more after that, one loud bang to signal Peter’s entrance and one to punctuate it. His voice pierces through the apartment, firm and unyielding. “This conversation isn’t over, Y/N.”

He has no idea where you’ve run off to, ruling out the kitchen once he drapes his jacket over the center island. All he can hear is your voice, muffled behind one of the walls, calling out to him with little emotion to spare. “Oh, yes it is. I’m over it. It’s over.”

“Well, that’s mature.” He mutters under his breath, not expecting you to hear him, let alone respond.

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so!” You chuckle dryly, ”‘Cause your judgment of maturity is oh so rational and not at all fucking batshit.” And he thought he had enhanced hearing.

“You know what? You’re right.” He scoffs, letting the slam of the bathroom door punctuate his final words. “I’m over this, too.”

🕷 🕷 🕷

“Y/N?” Peter calls out, but to no avail. It’s on nights like these where he wishes you weren’t fighting, knowing fully well that you would command him to the bed with a downward pointing finger and the best glare you could muster. You’ve always loved the way his hair curled into soft, chestnut waves, so you didn’t mind weaving through his damp tresses before he went to sleep. You would make up some excuse about how the process helped give his curls definition, and he would always end up way too tired and relaxed to call you out on it.

You’re nowhere to be found, though. Your comforter is still as haphazard as it was this morning, and the kitchen is void of your late night snack ravaging. The only sign of your presence is found in the open window next to you bed, and way the curtains float against the evening breeze, leaving him to ponder your whereabouts at a breakneck speed. 

A million visions of paranoia screen through his mind all at once, but he’s quick to dismiss them, oddly familiar with the prospect of losing someone, and all the fretting that comes with it.

And you know better than to wander the streets of the city so late at night — but with all of the venom being spewed throughout the apartment, Peter wouldn’t be surprised if you needed a small reprieve. Even for just a quick trip to the corner market. He’s well aware of the eagle eye you sport in the moonlit streets, as well as the switchblade that sits in the side pocket of your bag, but he knows better than anyone that you have to expect the unexpected in these streets.

He pulls out his phone, ready to shoot you a quick text when the bars of the fire escape let out a metallic groan. Despite your apartment’s... adequate amenities, you’d never had a problem with the fire escape. The finicky oven? Maybe, but never the fire escape.

Even without his spidey senses tingling, he has no choice but to poke his head through the window pane, and to his surprise, he ends up killing two birds with one stone.

“I didn’t know you were out here.” Peter balances on the window sill, crouching in a near feline stance as he surveys your position — bundled between the metal grates of the fire escape and your downy comforter. Your lips are parted in a tiny “o”, eyelids blanketing your hues, and with the street lights flickering to life across the seam of thirty-eighth avenue, you’re nothing short of angelic — features now outlined in a seraphic, dewy haze.

If he wasn’t feeling guilty beforehand, the sight before him guarantees he is now.

“Yeah, that was kind of the point.” you murmur. You don’t bother to open your eyes, not even when the iron beams start to squeak under Peter’s weight. “Can I help you with something? I’m pretty sure this thing has a weight limit, and this is a weighted blanket.”

You’re met with silence, and you hate to admit it, but you’d take his silent presence over your self-induced isolation any day. Despite the fact that you only moved in together four months prior, your body has grown accustomed to his presence, subconsciously weaving it into your daily routine. There were nights when you would splay out like a starfish in your childhood bedroom, waiting restlessly for the gentle wrap of his knuckles at the window pane, and that same restlessness bleeds into nights in your shared apartment,  which then bleeds into now. Sure, you can trick your body into sleeping, but rest seems to be boroughs and islands away when Peter’s not there to wish you a good night.

A terse silence settles between the two of you, and you blink up at Peter, expecting him to break it since you surely wouldn’t.

“Why here?” Peter exceeds your expectations with his query. His gaze is fixed on Manhattan’s skyline — even from the tippy top of the complex, he can still make out the jagged glittering, crust of the city’s bustling core — and it’s then he finds the answer to his very own question.

“I used to sneak onto the fire escape at my parents place, too.” you reminisce, the corners of your lips curling into a bittersweet grin. “The apartment walls were thin, and whenever they would fight, or talk shit about something I did that day, I would just sit on the fire escape until I fell asleep.”

“How?” He breaks yet another lengthy pause, and you fight the urge to chuckle at his candor, settling with a lazy grin. “I mean, no offense, but Astoria isn’t exactly a library.”

“Yeah, but inside, I knew exactly what they were saying, how they were feeling — it was all in the air. At least out here everything just… blends together. It’s kind of peaceful in a way.”

Your voice is so timid and gentle as you recall your childhood, reflecting on moments that seem lifetimes away despite the handful of years in between. Peter’s gaze is transfixed on your profile, skating down the slope of your nose and skirting the curves of your lips until he realizes just how small you are. He tends to hold you on a pedestal, a habit he’s retained since the very beginning of your relationship, so sometimes it still baffles him to know that you can be anything but perfect — that you too can be human, and make human mistakes.

“How come I’ve never seen you out here before?” He feels like a little kid, question after question slipping past his lips before he even has the chance to filter them.

“‘Cause I haven’t had a reason to hide since I moved in with you.”

And just when he thought he couldn’t feel even guiltier, he’s soon overflowing with it. It kills him to know that you felt the need to escape, and you’ll never admit it after tonight, but he was the one who pushed you toward it.

“I’m sorry.” Peter blurts out, not expecting you to say —

“I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, cutting him off before he can even open his mouth to protest. “I’m just so used to my Peter. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m sharing him with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Hey, hey — look at me.” His thumb traces the spot right under your eye, using his pinky to nudge the curve of your jaw upward, toward his gaze — heavy and drenched in a type of resoluteness that leaves your mouth bone dry. “It may not always seem like it, but trust me when I tell you that you’re always going to be my top priority.”

“Peter, you’re being dramatic.” You sigh, finding it hard to believe that your life could take any precedence over the safety of mankind itself.

“No, I’m being honest.” His voice, his gaze, they leave no room for protest. You feel a little awkward being the center of their attention, and so it’s a relief when they shift to the city’s skyline once more. “Look over there, you know what that is?”

“Central Park?”

“Mhm, good girl.” Crimson blooms across the valley of your cheeks at his choice of nickname, no matter how innocently he uttered it, but your attention still remains undivided. “I figured out that I can get home quicker if I cut through it.”

You quirk a brow, and he doesn’t need to ask to know exactly what you’re thinking — So what if he hasn’t figured out which trains he needs to board in order to make a dent in his homebound commute? It’s the thought that counts.

“Sometimes like to just stop for a second and watch some of the people in the park, but not in, like, a creepy way? You know what I mean?” A subtle hint of embarrassment tinges his features, but dissolves once he notices your understanding nod.  “Is there a word for that?”

“Yeah, it’s called people watching.” You snickered, trying to imagine your boyfriend and his attempts at roasting the New York natives. “MJ and I do it all the time.”

“No, but with less… shit talking.” He counters.

Ouch.

“Oh…” You’re stumped, unsure of where he’s heading and, quite frankly, a little humbled by his read. “Hmm… Carry on?”

“Well,” Peter lets his hand rest palm forward on his knee, fingers gently curled, and you’re well acquainted with the gesture. Almost instinctively, you hover your hand above his own, digits clumsily dancing with one another as he speaks, and for a fleeting second, everything is back to normal. “It’s just… mind-blowing sometimes. There’s so much life there, all at once. All of these people are just living their lives, making their way home, falling in love, falling out of love, buying overpriced hotdogs from the street vendors — The other day I saw this mom fishing her two toddlers out of that fountain on Terrace road and honestly, if they don’t end up with superpowers, I’ll be shocked.” He can tell he’s drifted wildly off track by the way you nod, slowly and unsure, as to not offend him and his train of thought. “The point is… I used to protect all of that, and it used to make me so happy.”

“You still do,” You murmur, not one to discredit the risks he does take in the name of New York. Just because his enemies aren’t held to the same caliber as, say, Thanos, doesn’t mean they aren’t worthwhile. “All that matters is that you’re doing what you can.”

You hesitantly intertwine your fingers with his, in just a delicate enough hold to let him reject it if he so chooses. Your lips softly quirk upward when he only tightens the grip.

“Thank you.” He offers a comforting smile, one that barely reaches his eyes, and you can tell that he has more to say. So, you squeeze his hand, silently urging him to continue. “Well, I just- after Mr.Stark… passed away… it was really hard to remember why I started doing all of it in the first place. Like- I hate saying this, but why do we keep protecting all of these strangers when all the people we do know just keep getting hurt?” He winces at his own words, so far removed from such bitterness that he can barely believe he once thought such selfish things. “But then- then I get to see all of the people that I’ve been protecting, and suddenly it all makes sense again. All I want to do is make sure people are safe, and happy, and hopefully… Hopefully, when we’re older, and we have kids that jump in the fountains at Central Park, someone like me will be watching… and they’ll feel the exact same way.”

When we’re older, When we have kids... Those promises of marriage, of a loving family, of a future — they bounce off your eardrums like a mantra. Soon, you can’t even imagine thinking about anything but Peter’s words, and how much you love him right now, and how you’ll love him until your heart can’t possibly take it anymore. You can read what he’s trying to portray loud and clear — He loves you, he can see a future with you, and if there’s ever a doubt in your mind that his feelings may have changed, you can look out into the world and find pieces of his heart in every passing face.

“I haven’t been doing everything I can to make sure that’s possible, though.” He breaches your lovesick trance, reminding you that there’s still a thread of discord dangling between you. One that you can see rapidly disappearing with each passing second. “I have to go on this mission, Y/N. I wanna start helping people again. I wanna do right by him.”

“I know.” You whisper, conceding to the fact that you will always want what’s best for him, even if you aren’t a fan of the circumstances. “It doesn’t make it any less sucky.”

“C’mere.” He can barely pat his thighs before you’re crawling toward him. He passes a warm hand under your thigh once you straddle his waist, scooping you further into his lap, and uses his free hand to encompass the nape of your neck. You feel like you could melt, being cradled between his strong, toned  arms, and the feeling only intensifies when his lips seek out yours. His lips are soft, and warm, and taste like listerine, and you couldn’t ask for anything more perfectly suited for you.    

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, without a trace of uncertainty. His thumb wipes the corner of your mouth, and he continues to plant a series of sweet, soft butterfly kisses over every patch of skin he can get his lips on — your cheeks, your nose, your temple.

He’s so wrapped up in his gentle ministrations that he barely hears you return the sentiment, eyes fluttering to a close as you breathe out, “I love you.”

“Please come inside,'' he whispers against your forehead, punctuating his plea with a chaste kiss.

You pretend to entertain the thought, tapping your index finger against your chin, before shaking your head with a waggish simper. Fortunately for you, it doesn’t take long for him to take the bait, and he disappears through the window. You can just barely make out the harmony of wild rustling and hushed obscenities coming from your room before Peter is returning to your makeshift bed, clad in the cheesy “The Floor is Lava!” hoodie you snagged from a street vendor during your trip to Pompeii the summer beforehand.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N,” Peter’s voice is tight, shuffling his knees across the fretted ground as he crawls into your lap. It takes him all of three seconds to make himself comfortable, collapsing between your thighs, and you seize the opportunity to weave your fingers through his soft, chestnut locks. “I don’t think I can make this a recurring thing. I can already feel the scoliosis forming.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you scoff, only to be met with a scandalized set of caramel hues. “I think you can make it through the night without any permanent damage to your spine.” With droopy eyes, your body starts to hum with the tell-tale signs of sleep, and your voice drips with drowsiness as you murmur, “And I wanna savor as many nights with you as I can.”

“I know,” he whispers back, the aftertaste of guilt intermingling with the abashment that follows your sleepy confession. ”I know. I’m right here, babe.”

And he swore, in that very moment, that nothing would change that.

[hanibalistic]

#FBB2F3 | LEE FELIX.

genre | bittersweet, nostalgic fluff

word count | 2589

warning | none

tag | @fluffyskzclub​​

note | very easily could have been chan, but i wanted to write about lixie!!!

the paint on the brush splattered on the classroom floor after felix playfully nudged you with his feet. you groaned before regaining your balance, carefully hoisting yourself back on your kneeling position. your glare was paired by his light-hearted snickers.

"lix, either help me or go home," you said as you pointed the colorful end of the paintbrush at him threateningly. you pouted when he stood unfazed, smiling down at you with amusement. "i really need to finish this by tomorrow. everyone is counting on me!"

he took a step back when you returned your attention to the banner-sized canvas, adding more detail to the seemingly finished product. tilting his head, he admired the decorative artwork with both intrigue and cluelessness.

it was something his non-artistic self could have never done on his own, which was why the painting looked so grand to him, but he also couldn't understand why it wasn't finished yet when there was no more blank canvas left on the surface.

you obviously wanted to add more to the painting, but he couldn't see what there was to add that would make it less or more appealing. in the end, it would just look the same to him, so why couldn't you pack everything up so you two could finally go home?

looking up at the opened windows, felix sighed as he watched the orange sun slowly fade back into the mountains. he wanted to go home, but he had no plans to leave you alone at school at this hour, nor did he want you to walk home alone, so supposed he would have to stick with you and your endeavor for now.

"what do you need help with?" he asked as he took his hands out of his pockets and knelt next to you, accessing the painting with unease. "i might mess up."

"you're not touching the painting," you said as you reached over for the plastic color wheel and handed it to felix.

his eyes followed your hands—boxes of paint, a jar of dirty water, a paper of abandoned colors, and a spiky brush. after setting them around him, you reached for your bag on the chair nearby and pulled out your notebook from the thin gap of your heavy textbooks.

felix raised his brows when you leaned over to him, flipping the pages of your notebook before stopping at a messy page. he saw circles and circles of colors, lined up together in a way that looked like detailed instructions but also a disorganized brainstorm map. his gaze moved from the notebook to the color wheel, utterly clueless.

"do you see number three, eight, and twenty-five? mix those colors for me," you instructed, pointing briefly at the paper before dropping it before his knees and turning back to the painting. "make sure they look like the ones in the notebook but a little more vibrant!"

felix nodded as a soft, confused hum of an agreement left his lips. he gripped the paintbrush in his hand, his shaky eyes glancing at the colors on your notebook and the lines of acrylic paint.

a gentle fear shook upon his ground when he was shifting through the colors. he could not tell the difference between the first red paint and the seventh one, but they had different names so they must be two kinds of red. putting his shrunken hand next to his face, felix licked his lower lip with concentration, thinking that if he stared at the colors long enough they would appear different to his eyes.

they did not.

giving up, he glanced up at you in preparation to ask for your advice, but he stopped when he saw that you were putting your utmost attention to the painting. with softened eyes, he decided to bother you at a later time—

"uh, haha, no," you interrupted the trip down memory lane with a sharp chuckle, and you looked up at felix with a sneer. "that was not how it went."

felix tossed his much longer hair away from his face with shy laughter. his short ponytail bounced slightly and his side fringes framed his sharp face. shoving his hands further down the pockets of his coat, he jutted his lower lip out and shrugged, "that was how i remembered it though."

"then you have bad memories," you scoffed, "you kept bothering me about the colors that i ended up telling you to just step aside and wait for me."

"i was not bothering you!"

"yes, yes you were."

"i was–ack! i was being thorough!" he retorted, throwing his arm out and waving his finger at you. there was a flustered smile on his face; he was looking like he could remember everything but was purposefully making things up. your chest felt light seeing it.

"remember how you told me your entire class depended on you to win the class board contest? how, like, they will literally kill you if you mess up?" he exclaimed.

you furrowed your brows in exaggerated horror, placing a hand on your chest and leaning back slightly to further state your surprise. "i never said that!"

"you never?"

"no!"

"was it just me?" felix questioned himself with a scratch of his head, taking shallow breathes of thoughts as he turned away to look around the classroom he once studied in. taking notice of a familiar corner, he raised his hand and pointed at the broken end of the door. "oh, they painted over the wall jisung scrubbed on."

you looked over instinctively and pouted.

of course they would. jisung had written profanities on that corner, after all. you weren't sure why he had done it then, but you remembered watching him get dragged by the ear to the principal's office and grimacing when you met eyes with him. who would have thought he became such an introverted and well-behaved boy now?

"i'm sure they changed a lot of things around these years," you said quietly as you walked through the narrow rows of the wooden desks.

the words jisung left on the wall, the rack of art supplies hyunjin always kept on the top cabinet shelf where the homework was stored, seungmin's neat handwriting being the first thing everyone sees on the blackboard whenever they walk into the classroom, and felix's school jacket he always dumped near the locker for easier access.

they were all gone. the presence of your youth has been erased.

"it has been a while since we came back," you finished off when you came across your old seat and you sat down.

it has been a while since you both came back to your high school, and it has been a while since you two went separate ways to pursue your careers. nothing physical has changed in these classrooms, but they no longer hold the scent of your old friends or the sights of your old classmates.

other people study here now, these classrooms are a foreign home now. as much as that irked you, you had to accept growing up.

felix pulled up the chair in front of you—the desk that belonged to him—and sat down facing the back of the chair. he propped his arms on the top rail and leaned his chin on his intertwined hands, staring at you.

the golden sun glossed over your faces, reflecting a younger light that made you gasp as it deceived your eyes with a newfound nostalgia, manually turning the gears in your head to make you see what you haven't seen in a long time.

felix's hair was black—black, short, and messy. you used to run your hands through them, especially when he was pouting from having trouble with finishing his literature homework. the teacher was the worst, he got unlucky to be stuck with them for a full year. it was thanks to your help, and the longevity of the lunch breaks, that he managed to survive.

instead of the turtleneck and coat, he wore the loose tie he never learned to properly tighten and his wrinkled uniform. his shirt was untucked because he couldn't be bothered. he would eventually fix it up, though, because he was scared of the discipline teacher. but, this was between him and himself only, compared to the discipline teacher he was more scared of you scolding him about his untidy uniform.

(funnily, there was nothing more he would purposefully chase after than your gentle nags back in the days.)

the freckles across his cheeks would be less visible. hyunjin used to have to cover it up for him because he wasn't confident about the way they looked on his face, but you remembered—you remembered how he had told you he loved it when you counted them, touched them, and kissed them as you sat on his lap.

he had told you he loved it.

he had told you he loved you back in high school, and you had said it back.

you remembered. under this blazing sun, the sun that never changed, the sun that only showed you the truth and what you secretly longed for, you remembered that you and felix were once in love.

"ah, this really brings back old memories," felix sighed dramatically with a smile. "we used to talk like this a lot. i remember being so uncomfortable sitting like this, but i wanted to talk to you so i kept sitting like this until the bell rings."

"what?" you scoffed, leaning back on your seat and raising a brow. "you should have just told me."

"i didn't want the ruin the flow of our conversations!" he said, then he propped his face on his fists like a flower. "besides, i used to think i look cool sitting like this, so i always sat like this when we chatted."

you gave him a faint eye-roll. you thought it was lame now, but back then having him turn as soon as the lunch bell rings and hearing your classmates coo teasingly at you two was the one thing you looked forward to in school, that was besides seeing felix, of course.

"well, it worked, didn't it?" you said. "you snatched me."

"i totally did." he laughed.

both of you didn't want to verbally acknowledge the fact that you two had been so madly in love back then that you would rather let silence fall over. it would have been awkward to talk about it after so long, even though you two had been very mature about the break-up and remained as loose friends afterward.

in an attempt to break the silence, you kicked your feet, reached out, and playfully ruffled his hair. felix was taken back by your sudden movement, his eyes widening in panic that you were messing up his hair as his hand immediately flew from his pocket to stop you.

"hey! i spent a long time on this ponytail!" he complained, frowning at your loud giggles at his misery.

"i'm sorry! it's just–" your eyes caught sight of a single run sitting on his fourth finger and you paused. there was a gentle pang in your chest as you tore your eyes away.

regaining your senses quickly, you removed your hand from his hair and sat back down, then you nudged your head over at his hand. "i see you got a promise ring there?"

felix hummed questioningly. he looked up at his hand, still trying to recover from the initial shock of your action, and he sighed with recognition when he realized what you meant. a smile blossomed over his face, a smile so bright and familiar that it made all your forbidden hope dissipate into the hole of your heart.

"yeah, i have a girlfriend," he said, wiggling his fingers. "we have been dating for a year now. i got it for our anniversary!"

you kept the smile on your face. you had gotten over the break-up a long time ago, but when the reality of moving on slapped you across the face like this, your heart churned in distaste anyway. felix was no longer yours, and you were not his—you accept that, you were just a tad bit upset.

"that's good! i'm still waiting for this boy to confess," you muttered with a glare of your eyes as you shifted on your seat. seeing the curious glint in felix's eyes, your thoughts swirled and suddenly your fondness for him faded to the back of your head. you sighed with a defeated smile at the new name in your head. "there is this boy at work–new guy, just a little younger than me–yang jeongin. he is so, so shy."

"i thought you don't like boys younger than you."

"he's an exception."

felix rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "alright. just don't scare him off, you can be intimidating. remember that time when a junior tried to ask you out and he chickened out the last minute–"

"uh, that was because i was dating you back then."

"no, he said it was because you looked like–"

"i know what he said, shut up!" you kicked him under the desk, bubbling a burst of laughter out of him as he stumbled.

after adjusting his position, felix patted his head to fix his hair before he crossed his arms and propped it on the top rail again. he looked at you seriously this time, but his eyes were caring and lovely. after all this time, he looked at you the same way—always, and you loved it all the same.

"does he treat you well?" he asked.

you pursed your lips into a thin smile and nodded. "mhm."

"good."

you glanced at him, wanting to ask your fair share of questions. is he happy? is he loved? is he being held? are his freckles being kissed, or is his hair being combed? is he nagged to take a rest, told that he is pretty? you kept your mouth shut.

the sun was setting into the mountains and the day was changing. the youthful light faded that your current-self once again resurfaced to sight, but just before the last trace of the sun died out in your classroom, you two gazed at each other, and it all went back to the wrinkled uniforms, the tousled hair, the old textbooks, and the shy intertwined hands.

back when felix was the only boy you kept in your heart.

the sun set, the light of his promise ring reflected in your eyes, and you felt a drop in your stomach that you ignored.

"i'm gonna go back and make sure jisung isn't causing a ruckus in the hall," you said as you stood up. "you coming back? dinner is about to start."

felix looked up at you and shook his head. "not yet, you can go first."

you shrugged and left the room with no questions asked. felix returned to the front when you left and he sighed at the worn-out desk before him.

he refused to think about the fluttering feeling in his tummy when you ruffled his hair and when he saw the younger version of you seated in front of him, but he knew for a moment there when he felt it, it was kind and warm, and he knew he missed it somehow.

he missed you, he used to, the only person he had kept in his heart.

tapping his finger, felix rolled his eyes.

"yang jeongin," he clicked his tongue, "pff." and he scoffed.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 295: So How Are You Holding Up (Because I’m a Potato)

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi randomly and graciously decided to answer all of our long-standing questions about Mr. Compress, including “is he secretly hot,” “is he secretly related to that Robin Hood thief guy,” and “is he ever going to use his quirk to chain chomp a hole right through his ass??” with the answer to all three being “yes, of course.” As for our follow-up questions, “sir, is Mr. Compress going to die,” and “holy shit,” his answers were, respectively, “wait and see,” and, “I understand, really I do, but that isn’t actually a question.” Well, he’s got us there.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi finally ends the War arc with the speed and grace of an overworked college student scrambling to BS their entire midterm essay with five minutes left before the deadline. Deku’s Spidey Sense is all “what up, I exist, p.s. you’re in danger kid” like oh shit, no, you think?? Compress is all “I’m not gonna die but I am going to pass out and be captured” and honestly, at this point I’ll take it. Spinner is all “Tomura you can have this one last Souvenir Hand I found that was in the oven for too long” and slaps it on his face because HE’S JUST TRYING TO BE HELPFUL, SHUT UP. Dabi is all, “[currently in a marble].”Tomura is all “actually, I’m AFO.” AFO is all “hahahahaha” and summons all of the remaining Noumus to cart him and Spinner and Dabi off to safety. Deku is all “DAMMIT TOMURA I’M REALLY MAD AT YOU FOR KILLING, AND I QUOTE, ‘AN UNBELIEVABLE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE’, BUT AT THE SAME TIME, GET THIS, I TOTALLY WANT TO SAVE YOU TOO! LMAO ISN’T THAT WILD.” Fandom is all “OH MY GOD, NO WAY, is what we would say if we had literally never met Deku before, I guess.” And then the arc just ends, lol. See you in the new year, kids.

WAKE UP, LINK... I MEAN, DEKU

jesus christ Vestiges, not a one of you guys has got any chill at ALL. LISTEN TO ME. THIS CHILD IS DEAD. HE IS DECEASED. LOOK AT HIM. HE’S LYING THERE ALL DAZED WITH HIS ARMS AND LEGS TURNED INTO GREEN PUDDING AND YOU’RE ALL “GET UP LAZYBONES” LIKE I SWEAR TO GOD. CAN HE JUST REST?? CAN YOU ALL JUST CALL IT A DRAW WITH THE VILLAINS ALREADY SO WE CAN FINALLY END THIS TRAUMATIC ARC AND MOVE ON TO THE NEW “TRIAGE AND ROBOT LIMBS FOR EVERYBODY” ARC INSTEAD

LIE BACK DOWN YOU IDIOT!!

no you didn’t pass out because of a ~heatwave~, you passed out because he set you on fire while you were out here shooting Blackwhip out of your mouth with your SPINDLY ACCORDION LIMBS dangling uselessly from you like WINDCHIMES you RIDICULOUS BOY

“where’s Todoroki-kun” oh shiiiiiiit. right. god I hope someone caught him. BAKUGOU OWES HIM A FAVOR, HOW ‘BOUT IT

OH NEVER MIND HE APPARENTLY CAUGHT HIMSELF??

Todoroki Shouto has really highkey been the MVP of the entire fourth quarter of this arc. he deserves the world, and odds are all Horikoshi’s going to give him are lasting trauma, and a souvenir shirt that says “I survived this stupid arc and all I got was this t-shirt”

anyway now Deku’s being hit by a Lightning Bolt of Realization or some such? idk what’s going on, but I bet you it’s related to Tomura waking up again

OH SHIT??

LOL WHAT. THAT’S IT?? SPIDEY-SENSE?? I mean we all predicted Spidey-Sense being one of his quirks like ages ago, so Well Done, Us, I guess

but also, seriously?? all of that drama and intrigue about the fourth user’s quirk and this is what we end up with? what was All Might being so cagey about then? how did this dude die? I need answers goddammit. new, better answers lol

maybe it’s something to do with the fact that Deku keeps talking about how his head hurts?

I mean, for Deku of all people to be all “ouch that hurts”, it must really fucking hurt, you know? like oh my god Deku are you dying

lmao and SPEAKING OF PEOPLE WHO APPARENTLY DON’T FEEL PAIN

this man is out here FROLICKING, half-naked and half-torsoed, AND STILL FEVERISHLY RATTLING OFF HIS MONOLGOUE. YOU HAVEN’T EVEN ESCAPED YET YOU DINGUS. did watching Dabi pour bleach over his head inspire you to think of interesting new ways you could abuse your own body for the sake of Theatrics?? why are villains Like This

anyway so now Mirio’s punching him, because what else are you even supposed to do in this situation

I read this speech bubble three times in a row very carefully this time around just to make sure I was reading the words right. and then looked for a T/L note below. and there was none. whatever RHA, at least you all are out here enjoying yourselves

wait what?

I guess he hasn’t woken up yet after all?? so then wtf is Deku’s Spidey Sense getting all worked up about. I mean to be fair there’s danger all around them still so having a Spidey Sense in this kind of situation is kind of like bringing a smoke alarm to a BBQ

now what

wait did he put them back in the marble?? or is that panel just meant to show us how they were in the marble earlier?? Horikoshi please make this less confusing, I’m already having trouble staying focused as it is. and on top of everything else Compress is cascading blood like Niagara Falls right now and I’m starting to wonder if you really are going to kill him off

anyway so Mirio is still in mid-punch, and now he’s reaching out to punch Spinner with his other hand. heh. Mirio please be careful Tomura is right there, and I swear to god Horikoshi IF HE LAYS A HAND ON HIS SWIRLY BLOND HEAD SO HELP ME I WILL MAIL YOU A VIAL OF MY TEARS

okay seriously what the hell is happening

when you attach?? everyone?? to your body?? whose body?? who is this??

oh wait okay it’s a flashback to Tomura talking about his Hands

lmao this is so disjointed, I can’t tell what’s a flashback and what isn’t and whose thoughts these are lmao I give up. I’m just going to fire up a bunch of question marks until this starts making some goddamn sense. ???????

??????

????????

-- !!!!!!!!!!!

okay hold up. so did Spinner just slap Tomura’s last remaining Signature Fashion Hand onto his face just now for absolutely no reason?? is that what’s going on?? and fuck me but it actually worked too, lmao. is your buddy unconscious and unresponsive to stimuli?? no problem, just slap ‘em in the face with a burnt and shriveled severed hand. works every time

p.s. I SWEAR TO GOD HORIKOSHI. IF YOU TOUCH MIRIO!!! HE’S A GOOD BOY LEAVE HIM ALONE

??????????

OKAY WELL. I STILL HAVE NO IDEA WTF IS HAPPENING, BUT AT LEAST MIRIO’S NOT DEAD. KACCHAN GOT BLOWN AWAY THOUGH SOB. HOW IRONIC THAT THE GOD OF EXPLOSION MURDERS WOULD BE MURDERED BY AN EXPLOSION WHILE I WAS BUSY SAYING “OH MY GOD”

ohhhhhh, okay. so this is AFO’s narration

and that’s a partial answer to the question of “why did AFO bother raising Tomura up as his heir if he was planning on taking over his body the whole time.” apparently it makes it easier to control him. joy :’)

also this image of a potato wearing a Tomura wig is sending me fjkllkhl

oh my god he summoned all the Noumu to him like Aquaman and his sea creatures. this whole situation just keeps on getting better

-- oh hell no. oh fuck me, fucking shit

SHIT SHIT SHIT. I’M SORRY SPINNER, TOMURA CAN’T COME TO THE PHONE RIGHT NOW

oh my god. I fucking hate everything right now oh my god

I GUESS WE FIGURED OUT WHAT DEKU’S SPIDEY SENSE WAS WARNING HIM ABOUT, THEN ಠ_ಠ

fucking great!! so I guess nobody is getting a happy ending today, then. the heroes got their asses handed to them (sorry Compress, it’s a figure of speech, didn’t mean to be disrespectful); Deku and Kacchan died; Shouto’s evil brother came back from the dead to ruin his life; everyone and their dog lost various limbs; and the villains have now lost Twice (dead), Compress and Machia (presumably going to be captured), and now their fearless leader’s body has been completely taken over by AFO, which is such an unsexy development that it managed to completely undo all of the Mr. Compress Sexiness from last week. goddamn it

DAMN IT HORIKOSHI ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO END IT LIKE THIS

up close Hadou’s face is looking pretty rough. :/ that’s going to scar over isn’t it. at least she’ll look like a badass

meanwhile I appreciate that Horikoshi drew what looks to be a little puff of air next to Kacchan’s mouth, just to reassure us all that he’s not actually dead. that’s fine. you just lie there then. also his wound really is in the exact same place as All Might’s and it’s giving me all kinds of feels you guys but whatever I’m not gonna sit here dwelling on it all day

AND POOR SHOUTO. IS HE STILL CRYING OMG. AND ENDEAVOR, WAY TO DO NOTHING STILL. THE ALL TIME CHAMP OF SITTING AROUND AND STARING, GOOD FOR YOU

ARE YOU FOR REAL, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW

(－‸ლ)

lol

“peace out, loser.” “SHUT YOUR TRAP, HO.” quality encounter right here

anyway so he’s blasting Deku with something and Deku’s just flying back all unconscious-like. so then, what even was the point of all that, huh

oh I see, it was to lead us into one last Deku monologue to close this arc out

oh my god Deku if you say you’re going to save him I will turn around and do a cannonball into a ballpit of feels right now, don’t do this to me

OH SNAP I THINK HE’S GONNA THOUGH

DID HE LOOK LIKE HE NEEDED SAVING?? I MUST CONFESS YOU AND I ARE OF A MIND HERE, YOUNG BROCCOLI. YES IN SPITE OF ALL THE MURDERS. WHAT CAN I SAY IT’S COMPLICATED

by the way I just have to point out here, that after all of those impossibly pretty close-ups of Hawks’s unconscious face, Horikoshi really did my child dirty here lmao

he looks like a squished cockroach. THAT’S MY BABY BOY

and it looks like the cavalry is finally on its way too! took them long enough. so I guess they can take care of any of the remaining Noumu stragglers, but first let Deku finish his speech. listen up Deku I really need you to say something cool and iconic to cap off this thus-far admittedly underwhelming Last Chapter Of The Year, here

AHHHHHHH YES HE REALLY DID IT HE SAID THE THING

well he thought the thing, anyway. close enough. I’ll take it!

so this is really the end of the arc then! or at least I hope, good lord. anyways, all right then so let’s do a quick status check:

it looks like the Noumu are hauling Tomura and Spinner away to safety, but it doesn’t look like they managed to save Machia or Compress. this honestly might be in Compress’s best interests though. the heroes can get him some medical help along with Kacchan and Endeavor and everyone else

Dabi is apparently hidden inside Spinner’s scarf, but do they have any way of releasing him without Compress there to undo the quirk? will he be all right in there. like how is he going to get food and water and air and stuff lol. does it wear off after a bit? can Compress undo it when he wakes up, even if he’s in custody? is there a distance limit on it?

and Skeptic was presumably turned into a marble as well, but Compress didn’t bother mentioning him at all. nobody cares about poor Skeptic lol

and bonus AFO theories status check:

Dad for One - AFO called Deku worthless and hasn’t seemed to take the least bit of interest in him despite getting to see his fancy SIXQUIRKS up close and personal. so if he is his dad he sure as heck is a terrible one, that’s all I can say

All for One for All/Deku is a horcrux - well the Spidey Sense seems to offer an alternative explanation to why Deku could sense AFO’s presence, but on the other hand it doesn’t explain why AFO was able to sense Deku’s as well (seeing his dreams and such). still thinking there’s a connection there, guys, idk

AFO is the final villain - five words for you: “EVERYTHING IS FOR MY SAKE.” is that concrete enough yet lol. pretty sure this arc marked both the beginning and end of Tomura’s brief stint as the Big Bad. Deku’s got it in his mind to save him now somehow, and we all know what happens when Deku starts getting determined to save people. look out AFO

as for the heroes, they’re all varying degrees of Fucked and I think it’s honestly too much to even take stock of at this point. maybe if I get a rush of hyperfixation in the next couple days or so I’ll do a separate post analyzing the impact of this arc and where things currently stand and where they might be headed from here

but in the meantime, ngl, this chapter was kind of a hot mess lmao. but whatever, I don’t even care because at least he managed to get all of it done within the allotted 17 pages, meaning that next week (or rather two weeks from now, sob) we really can get moving onto the aforementioned Triage arc! BRING ON THAT ANGST. I am so fucking hyped goddammit

[adenei]

Ch. 3 - How to Win a Witch in 10 Days

Thursday - Pt. 3

Just when she thinks her life can’t get any stranger, James Potter walks back into it. How was she just sitting at the bar, scouting out potential men to dupe, when a blast from the past shows up at her side and asks her to dinner? Of all the nights and all the bars, they run into each other tonight.

Lily’s completely shaken on the inside but forces herself to remain calm, cool and collected. James Potter is the one that got away. The one who fancied her at Hogwarts, had asked her on countless dates—which she turned down—and by the time Lily finally realized she had feelings for him, he’d moved on. It hurt more than she expected it to, so when he walked up to her just minutes ago, Lily wasn’t sure how to react.

She intends to say no when he asks her to dinner, but something stops her. It takes a lot to admit to herself that she’s missed him over the past few years. After all, they were friends before he started dating Bridgette, and they had to work together as Head Boy and Head Girl. The lack of James’s presence left a gaping hole in her post-Hogwarts life that she never expected, and it’s only now that he’s here with her that she realizes just how badly she misses him.

“C’mon, Evans, it’s just dinner. Catching up can’t hurt, can it? I’ve missed you.”

Missed me? Seriously? Does he even realize that he was the one who changed everything? Years of incessant invitations to go on dates, and he finally wears her down only to yank the rug from underneath her by choosing someone else.

Part of her wants to slap him for being such an arsehole, but not if he doesn’t know he played with her heart three years ago. Not to mention that a physical altercation would certainly ruin her chances of picking up another guy. The more sensible thing is to tell him it was nice seeing him, but she’s meeting someone else, but what happens if he stays and realizes that it’s a lie? No, that wouldn’t do, either. Then, an idea pops into her mind. It’s certifiably insane, but if she plays her cards right, it could be the perfect opportunity for revenge.

There’s something so devilishly captivating about James Potter, and Lily decides she does want to get dinner with him. In fact, her mind is set on spending the next ten days with him. This could be Lily’s chance to prove to herself—and James—that they were never meant to be.

She glances up at him to see that he’s waiting for an answer, although he’s not pushy. He knows better than to press for a response. It’s funny how easy a single moment can bring her right back to the Great Hall or the Gryffindor common room. Her traitorous heart begins to beat in her chest as she tries to avoid the piercing hazel eyes that are begging her to let him in.

Well, you know what, Potter? Maybe I will let you in. I’ll let you in long enough to play with your heart like you played with mine, and we’ll see how you like it.

The plan continues to build in her mind, and then some. Luring James Potter into a relationship only to drive him away seems easy enough. After the debacle in school, Lily knows they’re better off apart, and maybe she’ll even gain the closure she didn’t think she needed. Plus, she supposed a snog or two in the process wouldn’t hurt anything if it came to that.

Lily visualizes the checklist sitting on her desk at work and mentally adjusts some of her ideas to make the game she’s playing more believable. Once all is said and done, James will realize it was a mistake to ever have approached her tonight, and Lily can have a bit of fun toying with James in the process. So, the hardened look she forced herself to give earlier now softens, and Lily even chances a smile. She sets her almost empty glass on the bar and glances around to see if she can find Alice and Marlene. They’re mingling on the other side of the room.

Well, they know I’m out to snag a man, so if they see I’m gone, they’ll know why. Lily shrugs as she turns back to James.

“Well, Potter, how can I resist when you put it like that? Lead the way.”

He holds out his arm, and Lily takes it. A smirk plays at her lips as she looks back in the direction of her friends one more time. She catches Alice’s eye and gives her a wink before turning back toward the door.

Let the games begin.

“I have to say, I’m impressed,” Lily admits as she tucks into her basket of fish and chips.

James has taken her into muggle London to grab a bite to eat, and Lily’s quite shocked by his choice. It’s a small hole in the wall shop that serves the greasiest food, but it’s delicious. The walls are laden with modern art murals and the wooden tables are covered in carved names. It’s a place Lily is sure University students go for a late-night snack or on their way home from a pub crawl. Aside from Lily and James’s semi-formal attire, they fit in well with the crowd.

“Why? Am I still as irresistible as I was at Hogwarts?” James still possesses the same air of confidence as Lily rolls her eyes.

Still as cocky as ever, it seems.

“No, I meant that I’m impressed that you know your way around muggle London.”

“Sirius and I discovered this place on one of our nights out a while back. I come here at least once a week.”

Lily smiles at the mention of another old friend. “How are Sirius and Remus anyway?’

“Brilliant! We were all living together until recently. Finally decided it was time to get our own places.”

“The Marauders have finally split?” Lily feigns shock.

“Nah, not entirely. We still work together.”

“Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

James laughs. “We work for Alastor’s Ads. I work mostly with clients from magical games and food, but I’m looking to branch out a bit more.”

“Fascinating. I always did think you could talk your way out of a paper bag,” Lily recalls.

“Come again?” James’s eyebrows crease and one side of his face scrunches in confusion.

“It’s a muggle saying.”

“Ah. What are you up to these days?”

“I write for Witch Weekly,” Lily keeps her explanation short. If he doesn’t know, then there’s no harm in keeping the How To column from him completely.

“Lily Evans, Head Girl, so much promise to do some good in the world, writes for Witch Weekly?” James says.

“It was a job. Now that I’ve got my foot in the door with a company and I’m gaining some credibility, I’ll be able to branch out and actually write what I want to write soon.”

“Soon? How long might that be?”

How does James always see right through her? It’s been three years, but he’s still as frustrating as ever.

“As long as it takes to find an opening in a position I want. I’m not looking to make a lateral move just to keep writing pieces I’m not passionate about.”

“And what are you passionate about?”

Lily fights the urge to answer him right away. She needs to keep the mystery there if she’s going to succeed in her endeavors.

“I could ask you the same question. Do you really want to be selling pitches to restaurateurs or quidditch teams for the rest of your career?”

“That’s a fair question.”

“And your answer is?”

“It depends. I’m working on branching out to different companies right now. I’ve submitted a proposal for Zabini’s Jewels and am hopeful I’ll get the pitch. Should know within the next week or so.”

“Interesting,” Lily responds.

“So, are you going to answer my question now?”

Of course, James doesn’t forget that she dodged his question, but that doesn’t stop her from feigning forgetfulness.

“What question?”

“What you’re passionate about,” James smirks at her, indicating he sees right through this act.

Lily sighs and figures she should answer him. “I want to write articles that can truly make a difference in someone’s life. I’m over the superficial bullshit.”

James leans back in his chair and smiles at Lily.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing. It’s just been nice spending time with you again.”

She returns his smile. “You know, as much as I might regret saying this later, you’re right. I got so wrapped up in finding a job and navigating life in the magical world that I wasn’t very good about keeping in touch with my friends.”

“I suppose I can forgive you for that.”

“Ah, I can die happy now, knowing you’ve forgiven me,” Lily winks at him.

“I aim to please,” James finishes their banter as they gather their things and get up from the table to head for the door.

They walk in silence for a while, and Lily basks in the enjoyment of James's company again. She wonders what he’s thinking about and whether their night should continue or if she should wait until tomorrow. Their feet lead them down a deserted alleyway in preparation to apparate out of muggle view. James pauses behind a dumpster and Lily follows suit.

“Do you want to come over?” James blurts, taking Lily by surprise.

Internally, she’s screaming yes, but it’s late on a Thursday and she still has to work tomorrow. She bites her bottom lip as James ruffles his hair with his hand.

“I’d like that, but I’m not sure if it's a good idea with work tomorrow.”

James lets out a gruff laugh. “Right, yeah, sorry—I just thought—”

“I had a good time tonight,” Lily reassures him. “Enough that I’d like to see you again if you’re interested?” She knows it’s ballsy to make the first move like that, but time is of the essence.

James’s eyes widen at her boldness. “Really?”

“I know, shocking, right?” she keeps her voice light and airy, while adrenaline is shooting through her body.

“Well, I’ve got tickets to the quidditch playoffs tomorrow—Arrows versus Magpies at seven. Perks of signing Appleby as a client,” James shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Just as friends, you know? I don’t want you to think it’s anything—”

“I’d love to!” Lily cuts him off.

She’s surprised that he’s backpedaling so much. He was never like that in Hogwarts. Then again, he probably figured he’d have a million more chances to wear her down. If he only knew….

“Really? Brilliant!” James’s tone sounds pleased, and Lily can sense a hint of relief in his voice. “There’s a Portkey leaving from the Leaky at six if you want to meet me there?”

“Sounds great.”

They both stand there awkwardly. Lily’s wondering if maybe she should have accepted his invitation to join him at his flat. She doesn’t want to kiss him on the first night, but after his invitation to the quidditch playoffs as friends, she knows she needs to do something to show him she’s interested in something more than that.

“So, I guess I’ll see you to—”

Lily realizes she’s out of time, and needs to do something so James is aware of her intentions. This is an act, and she has to play the clingy woman that moves before the time is right. Before she can talk herself out of it, Lily’s lunging toward James, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his with purpose. Her eyes close, so she doesn’t have to be disappointed if his reaction is anything less than eager.

She always imagined that the first kiss she’d share with James Potter would be soft and slow and sweet, with him instigating, and this is anything but. Thankfully it’s not forced, but it is awkward as she feels James freeze at the contact.

Shit. Maybe he really is over me. I must have read the signs wrong.

Lily pulls away and turns her head to the side in an attempt to avoid his gaze as mortification begins to set in. She’s about to berate herself more for making a terrible decision and losing a whole day for her article when she sees a flash of black hair out of the corner of her eye as he leans in to regain the previous closeness.

His lips are on hers again, and his hands are splayed against her back. Lily’s hands find their way back to their previous position as the kiss takes her breath away.

James Potter is kissing her back, and it’s everything Lily’s dreamt about since her seventh year of Hogwarts. His breath is hot against her as his tongue grazes her lip before tentatively slipping into her mouth. She parts her lips enough to invite him in as her tongue meets his. Lily presses herself against his body as James groans in response.

Suddenly, it’s as if a switch flips in Lily’s mind, and she remembers why she kissed him in the first place. Reluctantly, she pulls away. James looks just as awestruck as Lily feels, his chest heaving up and down much like her own. Lily forces the thoughts of being back in his arms from her mind despite how much she misses the contact. Once she’s gained enough composure, she chances a glance toward James. He looks as windswept as she feels.

“So, I’ll, er, see you tomorrow?” James’s tone is more cautious than she remembers from their time at Hogwarts.

He looks completely thrown off balance. Good, Lily thinks, knowing she needs to keep him on his toes.

She shoots him a coy smile. “Absolutely. As more than friends, I hope?”

It can’t hurt to solidify her intentions.

“Y-yeah,” James stutters.

Lily doesn’t think she’s ever seen him rendered speechless before and feels rather smug that she can accomplish the feat.

“Brilliant. See you tomorrow,” she winks at him before focusing on her flat and apparating away.

[stagnantmako]

@endweapon​

In the early days, the nightmares hadn’t been subtle.  He hadn’t been able to quiet his wailing, nor stop himself from stealing into his brother’s room to shake him awake in fear that the dream had come true and he was gone. Even after being assured it was all just a nightmare, Nero would curl up against him like a pillbug and wait until dawn.

The nightmares didn’t subside as he got older. They remained a constant, one that kept Nero up and up and up until his body forced him to yield to its mortal needs. Yet he no longer woke Weiss with his tears and fear, no, he had endeavored to become independent. Yet on the worst nights he would hover i nthe shadows. Pause and count the slow and steady in, out, in, out, in, out of his brother’s breathing and match his own with it, quelling the panic before it could take root.  Then, assured that his nightmares were not prophecy, he would quietly slip back into his room. 

Weiss worried for him all hours of the day. It had seemed cruel to wake him from sweet dreams with his need for comfort. He had wanted to be strong, strong enough for the both of them, so that one day they could both escape. 

It appeared that Weiss had no such compunctions. 

( his memory is hazy. he’s been told accounts of what had happened, none of them matching. some days he remembers weiss reaching back him, calling his name. others he remembers words that sound much too old, his brother’s fist straight through his chest and his voice low and callous in his ear, i have no more use for you. 

in the end he always leaves you, something else had whispered in his ear. an unfamiliar voice, low and deep, dangerous as a lion. it took amusement in hsi pity, sympathizing with his loss. one way or another, you’re the one left behind. )

How foolish Nero had been to stay for him. A stupid, silly boy believing anyone would love a thing like him. How stupid he was to have held on top hope that Weiss would love him enough to come find him.  He hoped that his memory haunted Weiss like a spectre, his face a ghastly revenant of the life he’d left behind. For his brother leaving had opened a new chapter of misery his short life. 

DeepGround’s panicked response to his potential grief had been careless. What little faith he held in the staff was shattered when he’d awoken days later, disoriented and outfitted with a new suit he could not remove.  Worse was the hardware they had installed, none of it functioning, all of it deep and agonizing. In their haste they’d rendered him useless.

Scarlet had said as much, turning his head this way and that to examine the damage.  

Does this look like a functioning weapon to you? she’d spat, ignoring the fact that the boy had yet to even turn thirteen. Nero had been unable to get up under his own power, the mako infused into the magitek had ruined him beyond measure. Must i do everything myself? 

And so she’d rebuilt him. Vertebrae by painful vertebrae.  Nero was rebuilt and made useful, then discarded as soon as the war was finally in their favor.  )

The first time out after the escape had been clean up. His task had been to dispose of the unusable corpses and the skeletal remains of burnt buildings in a sleepy town called Nibelheim. 

“I see,” he’d said to empty air, staring towards the mako reactor in the distance. The voice from before sang a song of destruction and slowly he had a hand towards the darkening skies. “So this is how it begins.”

You have a several new assignments, Nero, is when the chorus begins. He lingers in silence for those five long years, let out only for short periods of tme. Slowly going mad by himself. his mind fraying at the edges. They send Chadley to engage with him, to hand hm briefings and interact with him, for Chadley is easily downloaded into a new body should Nero try to destroy him.

( and he had. repeatedly. the white hair and blue eyes made him scream the first time. now they only earn a sharp narrowing of his eyes. )

Yet there’s no ire as he takes his assignments from the androd’s outstretched hands. No, if anything Nero looks delighted. The spark in his eyes is gleeful, the song is begining to play. No longer does he fear the dreams that warned him of what was to come. No, these days Nero dreams himself conducting it.

The missions are nothing special. Family members of DeepGround members are sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong. Terminate and send a message while doing it.  A handful of murders in plain daylight would be enough.  There’s one individual who does not appear to be affiliated by the others who needs to be handled separately.

The second mission is less cut and dry, more investigative work into the whereabouts of Professor Hojo’s personal lab rats. He’s ordered not to kill them, only monitor them and report back once he sees anything of note. And, third...

The third gives him the barest hint of a pause.

Third, remove Cosmo Canyon from the equation. Ensure there are no survivors. They’re not wanted for testing or for interrogation. Simply disposed of like dirty secrets. The concept of killing them doesn’t bother him, but the idea that Hojo cares enough to want these people dead rings strangely to his ears.

Chadley provides him with a handful of locations. He gets names of those they know and general addresses of those they don’t. Anyone who has been asking questions is noted. Chadley himself is missing some image data (an SND ability? no, surely not, shelke is the only one capable and she’s been relegated to database work for shinra rather than against it) but assures him that they’re difficult to spot He isn’t kidding. Perched on top of the roof of a dilapidated building, Nero can spot those who came here to live and those who came here to seek.

Fools.

The first of them are found twisted in their bed the following morning. The official cause of death is ruled a heart attack, though they had been young and n good health. The look of despair and fear on their face was unlike anything the coroner had seen before. In response, AVALANCHE retreats to the clumsily disguised secret base to discuss theories.

And from the shadows, Nero watches.

[mydisasteracademia]

Random Shigaraki Headcanons

This boi. This grubby boi. I love him so much but at the same time he would probably literally dust me so... (oof this one kinda dragged on and on... lol)

Literally has no idea about real-life relationship dynamics outside of what he’s observed in his own parents, in Sensei, and in Kurogiri. All he thinks in the beginning is that people who claim to love you will stand by and let you be hurt, that villains took care of him better than any damn hero, and that he can only truly rely on himself. (And Sensei.)

It takes a loooooooong time of interacting with other people to break himself out of this mindset, and even then, sometimes it comes creeping back if bad things happen.

Getting into canon territory with this one, but really, really, reeeeeeeeally hates heroes because they didn’t even bother to help him when he was going through a whole mental breakdown. Literally one of the only reasons he hates them so much. I know this is pretty much canon, but I doubt he would ever grasp Stain’s ideology of ‘maybe some are good’ because in his eyes, not even the underground pro heroes even bothered to see if he was okay. Remember the scene from the manga with the old lady when he was a child? Yeah. There were bound to be heroes he bumped into, even off-duty ones, and nobody even gave him another glance.

Has extremely bad abandonment issues. If he likes you, he’s gonna want to keep you because he didn’t really have anything nice to call his own while growing up, and Sensei kept him fairly isolated so he literally tolerates nobody else other than him and Kurogiri at first. Reacts horribly when his friends want to break off the friendship. Goes through a whole depressive episode for a while, his old insecurities pop back up, and he really thinks he’s worse than trash and not worth anyone’s time or attention for a while. Prime time for Sensei to further twist his mind.

On that same note, if you’re dating, for the love of everything still good in this world do not break his heart. He will never forgive you. Literally will go to the grave before he forgives you for doing what you did (whether it be cheating on him or completely dropping him like a hot potato). Although this might also extend to little issues that make him feel like you don’t love him enough, he’ll forgive you if you show him plenty of attention and apologize for whatever he was upset over. If you cannot remain patient through his toxic mindsets, it’s best not to get into a relationship in the first place with him if you want to still remain friends afterward, because breaking it off means instant heartbreak.

Anyway! Back to happier, funnier hcs!!

The whole embodiment of the “Wears black in summer because I look good and am willing to suffer” vine. Will not give up his comfy black shirt and sweats for anything because yes, he does look good in black, and yes, he is willing to suffer. He’ll switch to a v-neck tee though. Even he’s not that masochistic.

Really prone to dry skin. I know that’s canon, but just... this poor man can’t keep moisturized to save his own life. Constantly has to apply a special moisturizer that’s specifically made for ultra-sensitive skin and has no scents whatsoever.

Will gripe about having to spend so much money on ointment and moisturizer for both him and Dabi. It’s one of the very few things they bond over, other than having a shitty father and pushover family... and their hatred of All Might.

Shigaraki 100% would be Dabi’s alibi if he actually managed to kill Endeavor. When it comes to the shitty dad club, he’s a fuckin’ ride-or-die.

Kinda sensitive over the fact that both he and Midoriya have the same sort of red shoes, but he loves his pair too much to throw them out. Purposefully aims for Midoriya’s shoes every single time they meet each other on the off chance that they get ruined enough for him to get different shoes, unknowing that he literally can’t just... get differently-colored shoes due to him being originally Quirkless (yes, The Shoes™ theory strikes again)

Literally never forgets a single thing about people he cares about. He’s the type of person who will remember every single thing you tell him about yourself, and especially birthdays. While he doesn’t exactly show his affection very loudly, he would be the type of person who tell you “happy birthday” on the day of as soon as he first sees you, and would treat you a little nicer all day that day.

This boy just has the biggest, scarred heart for his ‘good crowd’. I cannot stress enough just how much like Midoriya he could’ve turned out if he hadn’t been abandoned by society. This mf would give the green bean a run for his motherfuckin money.

“I really just hate the world and everything in it... except for you, maybe I could make an exception for you because you’re nice to me and I appreciate your company too much”

Even though I hc quite a few League members to be like cats when it comes to affection, Shigaraki’s spirit animal is a cat. Likes to lounge about in off-moments, slow to affection and very quick to remember exactly how people treat him, yet if he likes you he shows affection quietly enough that it’s not obvious at first. Like “oh, you’re in the same room as me. It’s not like I missed you or anything, me sitting right next to you at the bar when it’s totally empty means nothing. The fact that I’m looking right at you when you’re talking doesn’t mean I like you.”

LOVES HUGS. If you hug him and he likes you, you’ve probably made his whole day. Depending on how things are going, probably his whole fucking week. Just please hug him, he needs positive affection so bad

Major tsun-tsun. The most tsun-tsun. Grumpy until you get to know him, and if he likes you he’ll show you in little ways: listening to your ideas more, letting you stay closer for longer, maybe getting you something like food.

AFRAID OF TOUCH. I REPEAT, AFRAID OF TOUCH. Not from anyone he likes, of course; this baby is so touch-starved that he deserves a thousand hugs. But if he likes you, he will not initiate physical affection because he’s so afraid of accidentally dusting you. The memories of his family dying (except for his father, because #FuckKotaro2k21) haunt him almost every time he dreams (and if that doesn’t, then other traumatizing events certainly do), and he absolutely would not forgive himself if he dusted his favorite League member/civilian.

Definitely likens the rest of the League to his MVPs after a while of knowing them. Knowing how he operates, it’s adorable.

Would begrudgingly let Toga play around with his hair. I can just see him sitting blank-faced, staring at the mirror as she talks about whatever while brushing and braiding it into a cute plait. He would be hesitant to undo her hard work afterward, no matter how much he grouches that it “ruins his boss vibe”.

The kind of person to go to McDonalds at 3 AM just because he was craving chicken nuggets and ranch. Yes, ranch. He’s an old-school mf who don’t got no time for no barbecue.

Gets really irritated over Toga mooning over Uraraka and Midoriya, but doesn’t stop her from talking about how much she wants to ‘be’ them. (Encourages homicide. Advises homicide. Spinner has to stop her from actually getting ready to commit homicide.)

Disgruntled™

G L O A T S about the time he took away Overhaul’s chance to use his Quirk. “Yeah, we would’ve been satisfied with Compress taking his left arm away to be petty, but then Overhaul had to be a sentient piece of dick cheese, and well, y’know I couldn’t let him get away with that”

It’s becoming a problem. The others have learnt to tune him out once he gets going. Compress just smiles under the mask when he remembers it. Nobody knows what he’s really thinking.

His damn crowning moment. His apex point. There’s no going further beyond that (until he finally defeats Midoriya and takes over Japan as the world’s most feared villain of all time).

“Shigaraki, I’mma let you finish, but AFO still holds the record for being the most infamous villain of all time! Of all time!” <-- let the boy dream okay, he’s been waiting for this moment his whole damn life

Can you tell that I’m still horribly salty over Overhaul being an ass? Because I’m still horribly salty over Overhaul being an ass

Chronic emo phase. Hears the G note and just sighs heavily

Has probably seen hentai. Doesn’t really get the appeal of high-pitched feminine screams. Probably more of a tiddy man than an ass man. Just... boobie

His first fictional crush was Aeris/Aerith. Legitimately lost his shit when she died.

Man Crush Monday is Sephiroth all the way. Especially his one-winged angel form. Wanted to cosplay him for Halloween but didn’t because the cosplay was too costly.

Will make “That’s what she said” jokes in the most deadpan voice. At least Mustard kinda snickers at them.

Probably would’ve been pretty patient with Eri. Her traumatic past certainly would’ve pitted her as a kindred spirit with him, and he would think her Quirk would be a powerful asset if used right. Probably would’ve practiced it by destroying something and then telling her to rewind it so that he can break it again.

Shigaraki, holding Eri by her armpits: “I’ve only had her for ten minutes but if anything happened to her I’d dust everyone in the room to make her feel better”

The rest of the League: “???????? Okay?????”

Legitimately holds a powerful grudge against parents who abuse or neglect their children, especially against abusive fathers. Almost as powerful as his hatred for All Might. Will actively go after someone he sees is abusive to their children and will not let them live.

Would probably adopt an orphan after killing their abusive parents. “Oh, that was your dad/mom/parent? Well guess you’re mine now. Let’s go get chicken nuggets, kid”

Might somehow rope Dabi into going abusive-parent-hunting with him during a raid. Takes great pleasure in seeing the guilty party’s horrified, pained look on their face as they slowly dissolve into a pile of ash.

[et-lesailes]

nice & tight

pairing: mobster!steve x virgin!reader

word count: 4283

summary: you are best friends with steve’s stepdaughter, but you’ve had a crush on steve for as long as you can remember-- despite his notorious reputation as a gang leader.

themes: smut, age gap

taglist:@evanstush, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @whysparker, @sebastian-i-stan, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @teller258316, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16​, @straightforwardly​,  @denisemarieangelina​,  @frencchfries​, @xlanawriter​, @littlemoistcarrot​, @pottxrwolff​, @arianatheangelworld​, @ifuseekamyevans​, @southerngracela​, @nsfwsebbie​, @rororo06​, @savemesteeb​

notes: patreon saw it first! be sure to join if you’d like early access to my one shots as well as unreleased ones as well ~ i hope you guys like this, i know it’s been a while since i’ve posted a good ol’ smutty fic! graphic creds go to @thewritingdoll​!

You were sitting at the pool with your legs dangling in the water, though you weren’t interested in the partying going on before you. While everyone was drunkenly dancing around the massive yard or engaging in a huge chicken fight in the water, your eyes were casually flickering towards the windows of the mansion, teeth tugging on your lower lip.

You practically grew up in the Rogers’ household. Your own parents were often away on business trips, and your best friend Ciara Rogers basically ended up becoming your sister when her mother and stepfather extended their home to you whenever your parents were traveling for long periods of time. However, Ciara’s stepfather was not any normal working man. 

Steve Rogers was a mobster, and a damn good one at that. He was the head honcho of his crew of men, hence the reason he had the money to buy and maintain such a huge home. Even the police in the area wouldn’t dare mess with him, and it wasn’t as though they had reason to- whatever Steve did, he was clever about doing it. He’d leave not one piece of evidence or reason to be suspicious, and so he got away with pretty much… anything.

You didn’t know exactly what he did. He wouldn’t particularly be sharing these details over a family dinner with his young stepdaughter and her friend. Whatever it was, he wanted his family out of it, and that was understandable. Still, no matter what his occupation was, you couldn’t help yourself- you had had a crush on the man since you were practically twelve, finding him to be exciting yet gentlemanly at the same time. You followed him around like a little puppy, and he simply found it cute and amusing. Ciara wasn’t even fazed; she had been raised in the gang life ever since she was a baby. She had seen relationships and sexual endeavors much worse and far more messed up- her own parents’ marriage was actually an open one, and so she had been used to each of them having other partners her entire life. Whenever she’d catch you staring at her dad, she’d simply laugh, roll her eyes and shake her head to herself. 

Now, however, you were nineteen. A nineteen-year-old virgin, to be exact, and there was only one person whom you wanted to fix that. The kitchen lights turned on and your own eyes lit up as well. You stood up, looking down at your body. You had worn your skimpiest bikini, and it certainly wasn’t for the college boys who had been ogling you all night. Glancing around and seeing that Ciara was busy making out with someone clearly at least ten years older than her, you shook off the water from your feet before making your way to the door to the kitchen.

There stood Steve wearing nothing but a black wifebeater and jeans, rubbing his bearded jaw as he opened the fridge-- probably looking for a beer, no doubt. He grumbled something incoherently and you made a point of closing the door behind you for him to hear, a light smirk upon your face. “Sorry, the boys probably got to ‘em. There’s more bottles in the fridge in the garage, though, Ciara and I made sure to keep the garage door shut so your cars wouldn’t get ruined.” He turned to you, eyebrow raised in slight amusement. “Am I that much of an alcoholic that you knew I was looking for a beer?” he spoke in a naturally gruff tone, and you shamelessly nodded your head-- this was someone you had practically lived with for years, you didn’t have to try to be polite. “What can I say? I know you pretty well.” You murmured, making your voice as silky and airy as possible. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander over his muscled arms; even his pecs were practically rippling through the thin piece of clothing covering his chest. Could Ciara really blame you for being so attracted to him? The man could snap you in half with one hand, and for some damn reason, you loved that.

“Wanna walk with me?” you asked before he could respond, smiling innocently. “I was gonna get a drink too.” You took the opportunity to go ahead first, blatant about wiggling your ass in your tiny bikini bottoms for him as he followed behind. It would be too obvious to look back and see if he was staring, but God, you hoped he was. You wanted him to see you as an adult. Not the little girl who rushed to sit next to him at dinner or asked him about a million questions a day just for the purpose of talking to and being near him. The two of you entered the large garage and you switched the lights on, revealing his several prized luxury vehicles. You weren’t even the type of girl who was attracted to materialistic things, but you’d be lying if you didn’t think it was sexy that Steve had so much money. 

“You didn’t seem like you were having too much fun out there.” Steve noted, leaning against the wall as you opened the fridge. “Mm? Were you watching me?” you asked nonchalantly, though you were secretly delighted. Was he finally coming around to the fact that you were a woman now? If not, you now had the opportunity to prove it even more-- his beloved beer was on the bottom shelf, and so you did not hesitate to bend over to reach for two bottles. 

A scoff escaped his throat, his blues lingering on your ass shamelessly. “Bit hard not to when you’re strutting around in nothing but a few strings holding everything together.” He replied boldly, and you barely widened your eyes though couldn’t help but feel triumphant. So he did notice your body. You straightened back up and turned to face him, your demeanor cool and slightly seductive. “Would you rather me wear a turtleneck to a pool party?” you teased, handing him the bottle. He smirked, nodding for you to follow him back into the kitchen. “Maybe if it’s a party of horny, inexperienced boys, yeah. I don’t think they even know how to handle themselves around you, sweetheart.” 

The word “inexperienced” stood out, suddenly making you feel a little self-conscious. What would he think when he found out you were, too? Sure, you had done other stuff with boys in the past, but would he think it was lame that you were a virgin? He was a gang leader, for Christ’s sake, he probably had perfect, sexually talented girls all over him every single week. However, you quickly shook the thoughts away. Ciara had once told you that men loved virgins. They loved how tight they were, and they loved the idea of taking away their innocence. You hoped this applied to Steve.

“What do you mean?” you asked, curious nonetheless; he took a bottle opener from a drawer and motioned for you to hand yours over, and you obliged. “I mean they probably think squeezing a girl’s tits like a goddamn sponge or practically scooping her vagina out with their fingers makes her orgasm.” He answered bluntly, opening your bottle and sliding it back over the marble island before opening his own. “Those schoolboys wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like you even if you gave ‘em a fucking manual.”

You took the bottle, taking a sip before nonchalantly leaning to rest your elbow on the counter, purposefully squeezing your chest together in your bikini. “A girl like me?” you repeated, your voice a little softer as you looked up at him with a small smirk. “And what kind of girl am I, Steve?” He studied you for a few moments, his eyes slightly darker as he stepped closer to you. Your heart was pounding now. Were you finally going to get your chance tonight? No, you couldn’t get your hopes up. You had been trying for this ever since you turned eighteen, and nothing yet. You were starting to think Steve simply wasn’t into significantly younger women, or perhaps he saw you as too much of a daughter figure.

“The kind of girl that’s been a little fucking tease, and clearly trying to get me in trouble with my wife.” Steve replied, his voice an octave lower as his eyes locked onto yours-- you almost had to look away from how intense they were. “Oh, please,” you whispered, trying to sound as confident as possible. “I know you guys have an open marriage. I’ve literally seen her giving head to your damn pool boy.” You retorted, straightening your body but remaining close to his. “She wouldn’t care.”

“Mm. You’re different.” He hummed, his voice still low as he took a sip of his beer, though kept his eyes on you afterwards. “You’re her daughter’s best friend. Which, I see, doesn’t seem to be of any concern to you…?” he remarked; at first, you felt a pang of guilt, but as you looked up into his eyes, you didn’t see any disgust or sense of reprimanding. 

If you were reading him right, he was... turned on by this.

“It’s not.” You murmured straightforwardly, reaching for your beer and taking a large gulp before stepping even closer to him, boldly reaching out to run your fingers over his muscular biceps. Your heart was still racing, but your gut was telling you that this was going to work. “She doesn’t have to know. And even if she did find out, we both know she’s seen and done a lot worse.” To be honest, you weren’t quite sure how Ciara would react. Sure, she tolerated your crush on her father, but she probably didn’t think you’d ever act on it. The guilt came back for a second, but when Steve suddenly leaned down close, every thought in your brain disappeared. “As her father, I should probably be more concerned about what exactly you’re referring to when you say that, but you’re so fucking naughty you’re distracting me from even that responsibility.” He growled into your ear, and you had to physically force yourself to breathe normally. “Yeah? And do you have a problem with that?” you whispered, slowly turning your head to face his. Your lips were now inches apart, and at this point, if he didn’t have his way with you, you’d be mad. His eyes were practically boring through your own, almost as if testing your confidence and boldness to go through with this-- and you weren’t going to fail. You stared right back, even slowly running your tongue over your lips. “The only problem I have right now, darling,” he drawled deeply, “is that I’m rock hard because of you and you’re not doing anything about it.”

Before you knew it, he was scooping you up into his arms, lips on yours in an almost violent kiss as he easily carried you towards the staircase. You gasped in surprise but did not hesitate to kiss him back, happily allowing him access when his tongue pushed its way into your mouth. You slid one hand down to rub his bulge, and you almost squeaked in the middle of the kiss; he was certainly not lying about being hard, and he already felt big. You were starting to wonder what you had gotten yourself into, but you were immensely turned on at the same time.

He carried you into his grand master bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him and locking it. “You know,” he murmured as he tugged on your lower lip with a devious smirk, “my wife has a rule about bringing other partners into the bed, but I’m going to make you an exception.” You couldn’t help but giggle breathlessly, letting out a squeal when he suddenly tossed you onto the bed. You sat on your knees, looking up at him with flushed cheeks. “Oh? What did I do to deserve such an honor?” you teased, slowly playing with the strings of your bikini top. He watched hungrily, eyes remaining on your breasts as he muttered, “Oh, I don’t know, persistently tease the fuck out of me for the past year?”

You blinked, looking up at him hopefully. “You noticed?” He scoffed as he stepped closer, unbuckling his pants and palming at his bulge through his briefs with a low grunt. “Of course I fucking noticed. The way you’d wiggle that perfect ass just for me to see, or how you’d change with the door wide fuckin’ open. You were only being a little damn obvious.” He lowered his underwear and you couldn’t even respond to his observations-- you were too focused on being utterly shocked by his large, throbbing erection. It was safe to say you were a little intimidated.

He noticed this and smirked proudly, cocking his head as he suddenly tangled his fingers in your hair. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? You’re not too scared now, are you?” he teased with mock sympathy, his other hand pumping his shaft. “No!” you instantly exclaimed, a little too fast. He barely lifted a brow and you cleared your throat. “N-no, no, I’ve just… never seen one as big as yours before…” You mentally cursed to yourself; you needed to tell him you were a virgin, especially if he was using that thing-- there was no way you wouldn’t bleed. He didn’t seem to catch on. “Of course you haven’t. You’re so used to those scrawny boys too busy spending Mommy and Daddy’s money to pleasure a girl instead of knowing how to use their damn bodies. Has anyone even been able to make you finish before, princess?”

You bit your lip. Sure, you had been fingered and eaten out, but you had never reached your climax. He was right; the boys you were used to were useless. “I’ll take that as a no.” Steve stated after simply seeing your expression, shaking his head to himself before suddenly nodding authoritatively. “Well. Looks like we’ve got to make up for lost time, then.” He pushed you onto your back on the bed, hovering over you as he moved his mouth down to your neck, sucking roughly. You gasped in pleasure, tilting your head and letting out little whimpers-- and then you suddenly felt his fingers brush up your bare thigh, reaching your bikini bottoms and rubbing at your entrance slowly yet firmly. You couldn’t help but moan, tilting your head back and gripping the bedsheets with curled fists. You were so damn sensitive as it was, and with how skilled he appeared to be with the simplest of movements, you had the feeling he was definitely going to stick to his word. “That’s right, baby. Moan for me. Tell me you like it. Are you all wet for me?” he growled into your skin, and you nodded desperately as you rubbed your thighs together. “Y-yes, yes Steve, I’m wet! P-please, I want your fingers…”

He chuckled deeply and moved the skimpy piece of swimwear aside, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Patience, baby girl. Patience. I’m going to teach you how a real man does it.” You widened your eyes, moans becoming louder as he toyed with the highly responsive bundle of nerves, your breathing becoming airier. He pulled back to watch your face, clearly turned on from what he was seeing. “Damn. Those boys really had no idea what they were doing. How did they even fuck you, flop around on top of you like a dead fucking fish?” You were in too much of a daze to even feel nervous about the subject being brought up-- he soon pushed a finger inside you, pumping slowly as his thumb still flicked your clit. “Fuck. You are tight.” He noted with a low growl, his eyes studying your facial features as he moved his broad finger deeper. You could only reply with a whimper, barely beginning to rock your hips. He smirked and inserted another finger; you were only in discomfort for a few seconds before he began moving them expertly, letting you adjust. “Steve!” you gasped, instinctively reaching down to grip his wrist, though you were not trying to stop him. “Th-that… that feels good… m-more, please,” you begged, completely shocked; you had no idea that fingering could actually feel… nice. You really had been played by boys who had no idea what they were doing.

He kept pumping faster and deeper, fondling your clit even harder than before. “Mm fuck, you like that, don’t you sweetheart? You gonna cum for me, you naughty girl? Come on, let go. Show me how good that made you feel.” Your whines became more high pitched as you felt yourself getting close, your walls clenching around him and your back lifting off the mattress; you let yourself release with a loud gasp, completely breathless as you stared at him in awe. He simply removed his fingers nonchalantly, sticking them into his mouth and sucking as he looked at you with a cocky smirk. “Fucking delicious. I think I need more. But you know what I also need?” 

He moved to your side to lay on his back, grabbing you and pulling you on top of him. You let out a little squeal, breathing heavily as you stared down at his face. “Wh-what?” you asked, and he smirked, making a “turn around” gesture with his finger demandingly. “Your lips wrapped around my cock, baby girl.” You almost let out a sigh of relief, glad to avoid the subject of your virginity for just a little longer-- you were great at blow jobs, you could handle this. You turned around, your ass hovering over his face as you leaned forward to pump him with a little smirk. “Yes, sir,” you purred, delighted to already hear the little grunts escaping his lips. You leaned down and gave his bulbous tip small kitten licks, making a point to wiggle your butt for him as you slowly began to take him into your mouth. Fuck, he was thick, but you were desperate to please him as much as you could. You hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down fitting in as much of him as you could. He brought his hands up to your ass, lowering your bottoms to squeeze and grope hard making you moan along his shaft, sending vibrations up his length; he groaned as he bucked his hips upwards, muttering in an almost guttural growl, “That’s it, baby girl, fuck you’re so good.”

Thriving off his praise and noises of approval, you kept sucking him off, your tongue up the vein along his underside-- and then you suddenly felt him pull your ass down, your mouth releasing his dick with a ‘pop’ in surprise. “Ste-” you started to question, but you lost your voice as you felt his tongue swipe across your wet slit, your body shuddering slightly. “O-oh…”

“Keep going, baby,” he commanded, his tongue flicking at your entrance teasingly, “but relax your body. Ride my face like a good girl so I can have another taste.” You lowered your butt obediently, feeling somewhat bad to be smothering him, but you soon realized he was clearly not bothered by this. As you took him back into your mouth, he slowly pushed his tongue inside, moving it around lightly yet skillfully as he explored your wetness. His hands were still roughly palming at your ass, even slapping each cheek every now and then. You loved and hated it at the same time; you were the one who wanted to be giving him pleasure, and now you were very much distracted by that thanks to him. You did your best to focus as you pumped his base, playing with his balls as you sucked hard; when you felt his lips suck at your clit, though, you almost lost it. “Steve!” you let out a muffled moan, mouth half off his length, and he simply groaned in response, attacking it even harder. You came and you blushed feeling him lap it all up, your legs quivering slightly. You had never experienced anything like this before; he made you cum before you made him, despite the fact you were literally sucking his dick? You suddenly questioned your talents and experience, feeling nervous again. What if you were the worst he’d ever had? 

Almost as if he read your mind, he let out a little groan as he felt your hand work his base, your lips wrapped around his thick length. “Shit, sweetheart. As wonderful as your mouth is, I’m not interested in coming there. For now, anyways.” He sat up and you took your mouth off obediently, shifting to get back on your knees on the bed looking up at him breathlessly. The way he was looking at you was practically carnal- fuck, you had to speak now. He removed his shirt with one swift movement, then grabbed you and pushed you down on your back again, hovering over your smaller frame with a devious smirk as he pumped himself. “I’ve been waiting for this for a while now, you know that? You grew up to be so fucking sexy, it’s been driving me crazy.”

“Steve,” you suddenly blurted out, looking up at his face (which proved to be very challenging considering the fact his glorious abs were now revealed), “I-I’ve never… um… had sex before…” you practically whispered the last part, but he heard it. He blinked, his expression changing slightly, the smirk fading. “You’re a virgin, baby girl? Fuck.” He muttered, though he did not move as he stared down into your eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I-- I thought if you knew, you wouldn’t find me attractive,” you admitted shyly, slowly reaching up to hold onto his biceps. “But I want to do this, Steve, I swear, I want you to be my first. Please. You said yourself, the boys I know wouldn’t know how to handle me, right? So you do it, you show me how it’s done, I-- I know you’ll make me feel good.” He looked down at you somewhat incredulously, letting out a soft scoff. “You thought I wouldn’t find you attractive? Hm. Baby.” He shook his head to himself. “I can’t think of anything better than being able to fuck that sweet, tight pussy and have you cum over and over for me again, whether you’re a virgin or not. As long as you’re giving me the okay.” He reached over to the nightstand, opening the drawer and taking out a bottle. “But I think we might need this.” You watched him open the lube with wide eyes, whispering, “Is it going to hurt?”

He looked down at you honestly, nodding his head murmuring naturally gruff, “A little. But I’ll make it feel good, sweetheart, I promise. You trust me, don’t you?” You immediately nodded your head. “Yes. Yes, I do. I-- I want you to fuck me, Steve, please.”

He was right-- it definitely hurt. He had been generous with the lube, considering the size of his length, but it took a while for him to enter even slightly deeper inside you; you were extremely tight and sensitive, after all, but he managed to be patient. His teeth were grit and his jawline was tense as he watched you, moving his hand to wipe tears from your cheek. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, and you shook your head immediately. “N-no, no, I’ll be fine.” You took a deep breath, just barely rocking your hips, letting yourself get used to his size.

It wasn’t long before you found out he was right again. It felt good. It felt great. He was soon moving his hips harder and faster and you were gladly rocking yours back against his, gasping and moaning in ecstasy as you tilted your head back. You didn’t care if anyone heard you, though you doubted it; his room was facing the front, and besides, the music playing for the party in the backyard was loud. All you cared about was him fucking you, making you feel euphoric with every thrust and groan that escaped from the back of his throat. “You’re so goddamn tight baby, fuck it feels good,” he growled, moving his hand to practically push up your bikini top and massage your breasts. “Shit, even your tits are perfect. I’m pissed at myself for not doing this sooner, you know that?” You could only moan in response, arching your back towards him as he toyed with your nipple in his fingers. He smirked weakly, pounding into you even harder. “God, I love watching you come undone just for me, baby girl… I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.” 

You were a breathless mess by the end of it all. Your orgasm ripped through you, your moans practically becoming screams, your nails digging into his bare back. He groaned loudly and pulled out, releasing his load all over your torso. You were panting as your eyes drifted along the thick, white streaks upon your stomach, slowly lying your arms down by your sides as you caught your breath. He moved to lay by your side, a smirk crossing his lips as he admired your features, clearly pleased you were so worn out because of him. “How was that for your first time, hm, sweetheart?”

You slowly turned your face towards him, your eyes staring at him in amazement as you tried to control your breathing. “I couldn’t have imagined it any better,” you whispered, smiling in excitement. “Thank you.”

[nemesislogos]

How to take responsability

After reading the official version of chapter 306, some things have changed and others remain the same. Hawks turned out less simpathetic than before the official chapter, he still is conviced he did the right thing and his fault lies in a personal flaw: his inability to help Twice atone for his crimes which means he still doesn’t understand Twice and why he found meaning and belonging in the LOV, and Hawks made the issue about him unintentionally, he doesn’t seem capable of empathizing with him for now, I suppose he still pities him. On the other hand, the plan wasn’t to prioritize the families of the hero students as it was translated previously, the real plan isn’t as ruthless as I thought that doesn’t mean is good or feasible, the plan is to use U.A. and other schools with hero programs as designated evacuation shelters and the parents are only the first taking shelter. I thought the outrage was well deserved after everything has happened and this was the answer, it wasn’t as bad as the previously translated version of this chapter but the response to this crisis was a proof of the current mess, and the absence of a plan of the HPSC in case of the worst result, in case of failure, it’s like they believed their own propaganda, heroes always save and win, they are always right, they can do everything and they couldn’t, they were ovewhelmed, plain and simple.  

This response it’s ruthless because they’re asking people to abandon their homes  for an unknown amount of time and no matter if this is a hero-saturated society and it stands to reason the existence of many schools with hero programs, this fact still remains: the schools don’t have the capacity to shelter millions of people and there will be many people who will be excluded of the protection due to lack of infraestructure. In the middle of this Endeavor decided to act as the beacon of hatred and criticism to make the things easier for the rest of heroes, he asked to be watched because he knows he doesn’t deserve to be number 1 hero, as a hero, he failed. However, he had to take responsability somehow, he doesn’t know exactly how, it’s not enough, it doesn’t solve the current unease and chaos, the forced division between Enji Todoroki/Endeavor continues, and backfired on a personal level because Touya decided Endeavor hasn’t been ruined yet. This conference was fated to be a disaster no matter what they said, it’s too much destruction, incompetence and pain to simply move on like nothing had happened, the shelters aren’t enough and the most sensible and honestly the most difficult part wasn’t touched, what’s the plan against the remanents of the MLA and the people who escaped from prison. Unfortunately there isn’t a plan, there aren’t enough people to fight or to investigate the whereabouts of anyone. IRL this conference would have had a lot more insults and more rhetoric in the good and bad meaning.

[luminashdawnwing]

Trading Favors (Part IV)

Part I, II, III

(Note: The story thus far takes place between the opening of Revendreth and the end of the leveling story)

Luminash had ample time to take in the rugged - he could not call it beauty necessarily, though it had its grandeur nonetheless - crags and valleys of the Ember Ward while he waited on the Sinfall overlook. His companions, Nelyne and Grigori, had gone below with the chest of sinstones they had pilfered from the house of Lord Bloodwatch. Evidently, he was not permitted entry just yet, something about the Prince - word was that he had only recently been snatched back to safety from the Maw itself! - and his favored preparing some great endeavor.

The Light that beat down upon the land and all who dwelled there felt, in its essence, the same as that of the Sunwell. A sense of warmth, yes, but there was something else: a distinct sense of wrath, of righteous indignation that made what should have offered hope and solace an oppressive burden, even to the magister himself. He found himself squinting, blinded not only by the Light, but by its reflection off the bleached, dusty canyons below.

Sinfall, in comparison, was positively dreary, at least what he had seen of it. The Ember Court had no doubt been impressive once, but it was now merely a ruin, crumbled and nearly forgotten. Only a few lingering Venthyr measured their steps among the ruins, shaded by their ornate black parasols. They moved quickly and with purpose, clearly none too eager to be in this Light-blasted place.

He was broken from his reflection on his surroundings by the crunching of footsteps behind him. It was a curious mixture of boots on cobblestone and the grinding of soles on coarse pebbles, the Light-scorched soil blown all about by the winds of the valley and gathering even here.

“Follow, magister,” came Grigori’s voice, an aristocratic tone spoken much through the nose, “That is what you said you were on our way here, no?” He did not wait for a response, knowing full well his question scarcely required one, “Nelyne is still below with the Prince. All will be departing soon, but before that, we may have information you might find useful for your…” The Venthyr waved his hand vaguely, a gesture Luminash himself chuckled at, so commonly did he do the same, “Ah, trading deal with the Brokers.”

Turning and falling in behind Grigori, Luminash raised a brow, curiosity piqued, “And what might this information be? If you have a decent idea on how to both obtain a Maldraxxi phylactery and the wing of an Ascended of all things without finding myself tossed into the Maw, please, do share.”

Grigori turned over his shoulder to look sidelong at the elf trailing him as he spoke, cool and calm, “I can, in fact, share that information. You have come to the Shadowlands at quite an eventful time. The word is from Oribos that Maldraxxus and Bastion are at war of all things! Though I am unsure how accurate this statement is. Some of those visiting the Eternal City seem intent on little more than sightseeing.” The Venthyr cleared his throat, “Regardless, the Houses are at odds, with the Houses of Constructs and Rituals making some sort of alliance. Gossip is that one has made away with the bodies of many fallen Ascended, the other… Well, I need not spell it out.” He narrowed his eyes, their golden glow reduced to a thin line, “Or so I hope.”

As the magister listened, he grew visibly more relieved, “So a trip to Maldraxxus is in order.”

“It would seem so. Then, however, it would be...pleasing to us,” Grigori added, his voice dripping in thinly-veiled sarcasm, “If you were to return and join us here. Though the Prince and his loyal Harvesters will be away, the Accuser has a request of you.”

The magister followed Grigori down a series of stone-hewn, unspeakably ancient steps, down away from the Light that beat down much as the sun at summer’s height. The air here was blessedly cool.

“I should specify, for the...uninitiated.” Grigori permitted himself a brief bark of laughter, “The Accuser is Prince Renathal’s right hand, the Harvester of Pride. She wrings the souls of our charges dry of their hubris and redeems them.” A pause, “Or they are torn apart, or cast into the Maw, unrepentant, but this is - was - rare. Now?”

“They are yet more fuel for the fires of the Maw, aren’t they?”

The Venthyr nodded, “Just so. They are cast in without a fair chance to save themselves, to change. That is who we are, magister, we are the changed.” He held out his left hand, as if feeling the weight of something, “Crushed under our crimes, our selfishness, we are brought here.” His right hand now, giving him much the appearance of a scale, “In the end, we are cleansed, freed from the burdens of our past - do not tell those insufferably smug Kyrian a Venthyr said such a thing! - and serve in our way, here or elsewhere.”

“The Accuser, then, has need of these souls. I think I know where you are going with this, Grigori.”

“Indeed.” The Venthyr stopped at a curtained alcove in the crypt-like hall winding down into Sinfall’s depths and waited for Luminash to arrive before drawing back the curtain and ushering him inside, “And we believe that the item you aim to procure from the Brokers may help us find them again - them, and perhaps a few of these as well.” Within the alcove was the chest of sinstones recovered from the Bloodwatch estate. It appeared to be emptier than before, many of the fragments having been removed, it seemed.

“The true names of your resistance, have I remembered correctly?” Luminash slid into the room, followed by Grigori, who let the curtain fall behind them.

“These? No. Those we have already removed and hidden for ourselves. These are names unknown to any of us here in Sinfall. Which begs the question of whose, precisely, they are. Given Ivan’s desire to weed out traitors to our fool of a Master,” Grigori positively sneered as that title left his lips, his eyes just short of a derisive roll, “We’ve our suspicions.”

Luminash rested a hand on the lip of the chest, head canted as his eyes skimmed over the sinstones, their names, and especially - with a morbid curiosity - their crimes. A multitude of crimes, lifetimes upon lifetimes of hubris, “Who are they?”

“The way the Accuser sees it, and I see no fault with her reasoning, is that they are the Avowed. Those loyal to Revendreth’s heart, our ideals, who continue to cleanse and redeem the souls entrusted to us.” Grigori leaned against the cold stone wall, clawed fingers drumming against it.

“Yet you disagree?”

“I never said that!” The Venthyr snapped, shaking his head, “Ah, no, I do not disagree exactly, only think it might be that - or another possibility - or both, even.” He pursed his lips, “I knew Ivan once, long ago. An arrogant fool, obsessed with his own standing, a perfect image of everything now going wrong with Revendreth. He was never loyal to the Master. He was loyal to himself.”

Luminash’s lips curled into a smirk, “And so he had a bank of blackmail against the Master’s loyalists too, didn’t he? Which may just conveniently give us - or you, I should say; I’ve agreed to nothing of yet - a list.”

“Sinstones are linked inextricably to the soul of those whose crimes they bear, and if your Broker device can follow, as you say, the strands of anima…” Grigori shrugged, eyes following Luminash’s hands as they ran along the damaged sinstones, “Then a list, as you say. You can tell, I do hope, what one might wish to do with either our Avowed allies or our loyalist enemies.”

While they spoke, Luminash felt as if a stone had dropped into his stomach. His eyes had caught a name etched into one of the stones, and the hand that had been so idly running along their broken edges stopped. In barely enough time for the magister to take in what was carved into the stone, with movement so fast he could scarcely react to pull his hand away, the chest was snapped shut, Grigori looming over him. He could not be sure, but Luminash thought he saw a hint of fear in the Venthyr’s eyes.

“Go to Maldraxxus, complete your deal with those charlatans. Then return, if you see fit. Know, though, that what we offer may be the greatest use of your skills, and the broker bauble of yours, that you will find here, hm?” Grigori met Luminash’s eyes, whatever passed for fear replaced once more by a calm, measured gaze.

                                           **************************

In his hand, Luminash turned the relic of the First Ones over, again and again, its delicately carved geometric insets pressing against the magister’s palms. A dagger traded, Cartel Ta’s damage control done, the door was his, yet the key remained. An excursion to Maldraxxus, a delivery to Ba’net in Bastion, and that too would be his. With the proper scrying, it might well be a door directly to all the souls lost in the Nazmir muck, a lifeline, a blessed tether that might bring them if not back to their families, at least to where their proper afterlives.

On the other hand, the Venthyr certainly could use the aid, Luminash knew. Souls in need of redemption lost to the darkness was a worthy cause, especially as the Master’s loyalists bolstered themselves against what passed for resistance at Sinfall.

Or could it even be a more personal obligation? Luminash felt the weight of the stone pressing against his palm, fingers tracing the honeycomb geometry. There had been the matter of that final sinstone and its crimes, its words seen but for a brief moment burned all the same into the magister’s mind:

A researcher whose instruments charted the skies and the stars of the Great Dark, he advanced the cause of his science and all knowledge. Knowledge everywhere is power, and power was his true reward.

Honorable and honest in all his public dealings, his name became a byword among his peers for unwavering character. In private, his unblemished word was replaced with a bloodied dagger, leaving none left to question him.

Dedicated to his family, his keen political mind led his family to the heights of power and prestige. Loyal beyond all else to his Queen and his legacy, in her name he sent his family hurtling from the heights into the abyss.

Scholar; brute.

A man worthy of trust; a knife in the back.

Loving father; traitor.

For his intellect, his virtue, and his service, he deserves redemption. For his avarice, wrath, and pride he has come to us. Let these be washed away and let him be made anew.

Lanestrian Dawnwing.

[phantompearlsalt]

Sour Cherry, Chapter 6

Sweet anon, THANK YOU for giving me the push I needed to finally think through this idea and write it out. I had such a blast writing this one, so I can’t wait to see what y’all think. I’m a sucker for an emotional engagement story 😭Check out chapter 6 on AO3 as well!

Despite having your eyes closed, you immediately know it’s Kuvira when the airship entryway hisses open. You’re sprawled across the couch with one leg hanging over the edge and you hear heavy footsteps walk towards you. 

Kuvira stops in front of you and lifts her metal armor off, tossing it to the ground where it crashes in a loud clamor that would normally make you jump if you weren’t thoroughly and utterly exhausted. 

Without a word, she collapses on top of you, settling her head against your chest and sighing deeply. “Long day?” you mumble, instinctively wrapping your arms around her shoulders. Her response is a funny muffled sound but you can’t bring yourself to muster a mere chuckle — in addition to every muscle in your body, it seems like your mouth is somehow sore as well. 

You both doze off at some point but a piercing whir outside of the ship bustles you both awake. “What on earth could it possibly be this time?” Kuvira groans. When you finally decide to pry your eyelids open, you see her hair is barely held together by a now unkempt braid. The sun is just about to set so a fiery orange glow bleeds through the windows, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes. 

“Just some maintenance,” you remind her. “It should only take a few hours. You should keep sleeping. I’ll go check on everything.” But Kuvira roughly shakes her head, lifting herself up and straightening her back. “No, I’ll go. You stay here...rest,” she assures you. You’re tempted to roll your eyes but you know this behavior comes naturally to Kuvira, especially as you’re nearing your year and a half in Ba Sing Se. She has managed to oversee a major renewal of the city’s infrastructure, making strides in systematizing order in ways no one believed possible without Suyin Beifong’s intervention.

But with Kuvira at the helm it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest and as thrilling as the prospect is, you worry over the toll it has taken on her. She is incredibly covert around the rest of the army, never once demonstrating a degree of exhaustion or tension. However, it is not difficult for you to see the physical and mental repercussions of this endeavor. You support her wherever you can, though you are still unable to break this tendency of hers to assume nearly every task that requires attention. 

She is just about to push herself off the couch when you gently wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her back down. “Before you go, you might wanna fix that,” you say, eyeing her hair. Sighing again, she mutters what you assume is an affirmative response, turning so her back is facing you. 

You grin widely and hoist yourself up so your feet are on the floor and your body is angled towards Kuvira. You pull away the thin black ribbon that holds the braid together, running your fingers through her hair to undo the plaits. It is nothing short of sublime watching the heavy, dark waves gracefully spill down her back. Once the knots are undone, you begin styling the hair in Kuvira’s preferred manner, tucking the pieces into each other while leaving a lock hanging along her right cheek. Though she doesn’t make a sound, you notice the tips of her ears have adopted a shade of vivid pink. 

In moments like these, you are hit by just how much you miss sharing these intimate activities with Kuvira. Yes, you see her (nearly) every night after flurried hours of near-constant activity but your time beyond that has dwindled dramatically over the past year. It’s not like you didn’t expect it either — there is only so much free time one can have when you’re stabilizing a city as vast as Ba Sing Se. You reassure Kuvira frequently that you manage well, and for the most part you do, but it doesn’t diminish that stifled ache you feel every so often when you remember how delightful these moments really are. 

You shake yourself out of the melancholy, returning your attention to your fingers weaving through Kuvira’s hair. As you secure the braid with the ribbon, you press a soft peck to the back of her neck. She stands and when she touches your face, a distinct flash of sorrow brushes over her eyes. 

“You know I love you, right?” she asks, her voice rather strained. You smile wistfully and nod. “Of course I do,” you affirm.” She looks at you for several moments with an enigmatic expression before her face softens into something passive and she leaves the ship. 

If a tear manages to drop from the corner of your eye, you choose to ignore it. 

---

The following weeks grow increasingly tense as Kuvira continues her attempts at consolidating the revitalized groundwork she has established in Ba Sing Se. At some point, there are scattered comments about calling upon the United Republic for resources as everyone fears you are near the point of exhausting your own. But Kuvira remains adamant. 

“The United Republic of Nations has done nothing but sit and watch from the comforts of their homes while we bring peace to the Earth Kingdom capital,” she asserts. “Or have we conveniently forgotten that this chaos is largely a product of the Republic’s negligence to step forward themselves?” 

It is a compelling reminder that effectively squelches any further mention about turning to President Raiko or other leaders. Ultimately, you believe Kuvira’s endeavors will definitively preserve peace in the capital and extend beyond its walls. Furthermore, you know most of the army agrees.

That night in your tent, you’re in the middle of hanging your uniform when Kuvira steps in and immediately goes to her desk. Lifting the metal helmet off her head, she sets it atop a pile of scattered paperwork and leans back in her chair. You gaze at her sympathetically but don’t make any move towards her. You’ve learned to read Kuvira’s body language well and it’s evident she needs some time alone. 

After you’ve plopped onto your sleeping pad, you blow out your lantern and stare at the wall ahead, wondering what could be going through Kuvira’s mind. You can’t tell exactly how much time has passed when you hear the soft jangle of metal and shuffle of fabric. Eventually—finally—Kuvira joins you on the pad, looping her arms around your waist and pulling you close. You instinctively burrow deeper into the embrace without a word, waiting to see if Kuvira will break the silence first. 

When she does, you don’t expect the words that follow. “This won’t be over anytime soon,” she states. The statement itself is objective — there’s no way the capital could survive on its own at this point, even with Kuvira’s reconstruction efforts. There is now order where there was once chaos but it’s tenuous at best. Furthermore, even after Ba Sing Se is totally stabilized there are still all the other Earth Kingdom states in ruins and barely able to fight off bandits. Everyone was aware of her intention to carry this enterprise beyond the capital but the reality of it is much more daunting than you had prepared for. 

Nevertheless, there is an undercurrent of something else beneath Kuvira’s words. Something distinctly somber. 

Being all too familiar with the emotion, you loop your fingers through Kuvira’s and lovingly squeeze her hand. “I know. But it will be, at some point,” you respond simply. 

“Can you live with that?” she asks. “What do you mean?” you reply, twisting your body so your face is huddled against her neck. 

“The magnitude of this,” she clarifies. “When I first brought you into my army, we both knew it would stretch beyond a year. Then, after we...started this...I asked if you were willing to accept this future with me, knowing what it entailed.”

“And I did,” you point out. Kuvira remains silent after that and although you are unable to see the finer details of her face, this stillness feels heavier — it carries the anxiety of someone who craves deeper reassurance but is unable to communicate it. 

“Kuvira, I will tell you this every single day while I can: I love you. I love you so much it frightens me sometimes because this is new for me too. And it’s precisely because I love you this much that I am going to be at your side through all of this. I promise,” you pour out. 

“Even before I knew I loved you, I knew I would follow you in this endeavor. You know exactly how devastated we were seeing what was happening in Ba Sing Se, in the other states. We felt powerless, we felt like traitors abandoning our people. But you gave us the opportunity to do something where others wouldn’t. Just as I will stay by your side as your partner, I will stay by your side to see the Earth Kingdom reunited. And when the time comes, we’ll have all the time in the world. For now, this is okay. I’m here, we’re here, and it’s okay.”

You’re barely finished uttering your last few words when Kuvira’s arms coil around your head and she buries her face in your hair. You latch your hands onto her back and inhale deeply, immersing your senses in Kuvira. Her smell, her warmth, the sound of her tight breathing, the steady thrum of her pulse. 

She doesn’t speak another word that evening but she doesn’t have to. As much as Kuvira has gotten better at expressing her emotions, it still doesn’t come easy to her. In fact, you’re certain it brings her great discomfort. This time around, the silence is peaceful. It is no longer threaded with the strands of sadness that laced Kuvira’s voice. 

Instead, the weight is replaced with airiness that ultimately eases her into a deep slumber.

---

The rest of the month proceeds busily as Kuvira begins implementing new bureaucratic offices that will help oversee the continued stability of the capital. She is confident her army will soon be able to demobilize and carry the reunification efforts into the neighboring states. The world leaders have begun praising the successes of her leadership.

“Gosh, isn’t this amazing?” Bolin sighs. You’re both walking through the streets of Ba Sing Se, marveling at the progress Kuvira has facilitated in a relatively short amount of time. “It really is,” you agree. “Just think,” he continues. “When we first got here, we didn’t think this place would even last the next year. Now look at it! It’s like a completely different city.” 

“I know, right?” you respond. “Before you know it, we’ll be out of here and —” You’re suddenly cut off when a hand touches your waist, startling you. Bolin looks like he’s about to burst out laughing when you turn and see Kuvira at your side, idly observing you both. 

“Bolin, I hope you don’t mind my interrupting your conversation,” she says. Bolin immediately shakes his hands and gestures towards the other end of the street. “Nope, never, not at all,” he sputters. “We were just wrapping up here so...I’ll just leave you to it.” He promptly salutes and is on his way, quicker than he might care to admit.

“What’s the matter?” you ask. “Has something come up at the construction site?” “Not at all,” Kuvira responds. “I simply needed to inform you to stay up for me tonight. It’s our last evening in Chameleon Bay before we relocate cityside, and I’d like to spend some time with you before we begin the demobilization process.” 

Your mouth drops open a bit and you clamp your hands together behind your back. It’s been quite some time since you’ve been able to be with Kuvira like that. “Oh, um, okay. That sounds nice,” you say. It comes across pathetically boring which of course raises Kuvira’s eyebrows. “I hope so,” she replies. “You won’t have to stay up late. I will be wrapping up my evening assembly early tonight.”

“Early?” you echo. “My commanders have excelled in realizing the tasks I’ve set before them. There is little to discuss tonight in preparation for the transition that we haven’t already touched on,” she elaborates.

“Alright. I’m looking forward to it. It’s been a while,” you note, biting back the smile that tugs on the corners of your lips. “Indeed. I look forward to it as well,” Kuvira says. “As you were.” You bow slightly before turning towards the direction Bolin left, attempting (and failing) to stifle the warm tickle in your chest. 

---

When night falls, you’re back in your tent waiting for Kuvira. You’ve stowed away your metal gear and settled onto your sleeping pad, flipping through the pages of an old journal you found in your storage box. The pages have certainly seen better days and the darkened leather cover has started fraying around the corners. 

You’re moderately embarrassed by how often Kuvira’s name flashes through the thick squares of parchment. You recall the days you started writing about her, way before you even knew her name. The dancer with the braid, as she was known for so long. After you saw her in the Zaofu paper, it felt as though your hand viscerally craved the movement of scrawling her name. Your muscles seemed to commit each line and curve of the letters to memory, to the point where you very nearly stopped altogether for fear of letting your infatuation consume every entry. 

Eventually, you come across a dogeared page and when you open it, there’s a smaller piece of paper lodged into the gutter. Kuvira’s neat script is instantly recognizable and you’re just about to unfold the note when the door to your tent slides open. 

You snap the journal shut, earning an inquiring look from Kuvira. “It’s been a while since you’ve pulled that out,” she notes. Tucking the journal back into the box, you stand up and gently push it away with your foot. “Yeah, a few months at least,” you chuckle. “Just taking a trip down memory lane. Wanna head out?” 

Kuvira gestures to the door and you promptly exit, eyeing your surroundings for any evening wanderers. You manage to spot a handful of privates gathered around waning embers but Kuvira curls her hand around yours and gently tugs you forward. The walk itself isn’t too far from the campsite — Kuvira quickly finds a patch near the rocky cliff for you to sit on. From here, you can hear the soft lapping of water on the shoreline and see the distant glow of the fire you noticed earlier. 

“You know, I never really noticed how beautiful this place is,” you remark. Kuvira’s arm is lined against yours, her hand resting on your thigh. “It’s quite different from Zaofu, isn’t it?” she asks. You nod and lean your head against her shoulder. “That’s an understatement,” you chuckle. “It’s not like we were totally isolated from the ocean or anything, but there’s something so vast and different about this place. Maybe because it’s so far from everything I grew up with.”

“Do you miss it?” 

The question is so hushed you nearly believe it’s an echo from the campsite but then Kuvira’s body shifts and you realize it came from her. 

“I don’t know if I miss Zaofu specifically,” you admit. “I feel like I’ve gotten so caught up in this that I haven’t given it much thought...I know I miss my library. Sometimes the professors at the university. But it’s so fleeting I forget about it most of the time. What about you?”

Kuvira’s response is immediate. “I have no attachment to Zaofu. When I told Suyin I would return on my own terms, at that point I had severed any connection I had to the city. It served its purpose when it needed to and it was time to move forward,” she explains. 

Instead of answering, you wind your arms around Kuvira’s to bring your bodies closer together. You are left wondering how much truth the admission carries, evoking memories of whispered conversations late into the night when Kuvira would tell you about her childhood in Zaofu, her adolescence, and her life with the Beifongs. Regardless, you know better than to continue pressing her so you sit in comfortable silence for some time. 

“I bet this wasn’t part of your grand plan though, huh?” you tease later, softly pushing her shoulder with your cheek. While her voice remains solemn, you feel her muscles relax beneath your own. “I never did contemplate something of this nature. Still, it has easily been one of the more pleasant developments to emerge during all of this,” she murmurs. 

“You know, just before you walked into the tent, I found that letter you wrote me months ago,” you say. “You said something along the same lines… ‘a pleasant development.’” The words come across somewhat stilted, unable to capture the style with which Kuvira expresses them. Despite this, her shoulders shudder as she exhales a brisk laugh. 

“I wrote that letter for you about a month after we started our relationship,” she confesses and the revelation nearly rocks you off your seated position. Short images of her writing race through your mind: adore you — changed me — hope — I promise — a future together. She wrote all of that after one month?

Careful to avoid any abrupt movement, you unfurl your arms so you can see Kuvira’s face. “I wouldn’t have guessed,” you sputter. Kuvira leans forward so her elbows rest on her knees, contemplating the extensive bay of water before you. “That was intentional,”she continues. “I...had no idea how you might react if I gave that to you so early on. I nearly shredded it because of that. But...it didn’t feel right to do that either. So I just waited.” 

Even one year into your relationship, Kuvira is not prone to faltering when she speaks. You can count the number of times it’s been noticeable to you because she insists on carrying herself otherwise. She tells you it happens when the emotions become too immense, too unfamiliar and her body doesn’t know how to make sense of them. It’s her body’s way of telling you, “This is new to me. I don’t know what to do with this feeling. Please — be patient.”

You extend your arms so you can take Kuvira’s hands in your own, holding them against your knees. “I’m glad you never threw it away, that you gave it to me when you did. But I always knew, Kuvira. Even after a month I knew it would always be you. Yes, it terrified me too but I never doubted it for a moment.” 

Her face, which had been marked by an unmistakable touch of distress, gradually softens. She removes her hands from yours, lifting one to brush away the strands of hair at your temple. “And you still feel this way?” she inquires. “Even with everything that lies ahead, is this still true?”

You want to respond so desperately but the sounds are caught and tangled in your throat in a cumbersome knot. You realize this is the culmination of the past several weeks, of your intense desire to just exist with Kuvira outside of the meetings and the speeches and just relish in this enchanting ether where you’re bound to each other by the sheer force of your emotions alone. Now that you have the opportunity, everything feels like too much. 

Exactly as Kuvira feels.

So, you nod rapidly and hope she understands the meaning behind the gesture. Kuvira’s lips tighten for an instant before her other arm moves and when you look down, a thin band of metal is nestled in the center of her palm. 

Everything goes silent: the ripple of water below, the coarse whisper of windswept grass, the throb of your heart against your chest. There isn’t a single sound in the world or any other sight. The entire universe appears to have compressed into this exact moment and the ring Kuvira displays. 

“Three weeks ago, I asked if you could live with the weight of what a future with me entails and you said yes. You reminded me how much you love me. You reminded me that you have been at my side from the beginning, far before I knew the depths of my own feelings for you. I know this will not lessen the challenge of being with me and I don’t expect it to. Nevertheless, you must know that I do this because I cannot envision a future where I don’t vow myself to you in this way.”

A breath, a juncture in time. The sound of your name, sounding warped in your ears. 

“From that first night you confessed to me, I knew I would not spend the rest of my life with anyone else at my side. But I still need to know now: will you marry me?”

Deep in your core, you knew the words were coming and you expected them to land like the resounding crash of a landslide: boisterous and disorienting. Instead, they descend with the simple grace of cherry blossom petals, twisting downwards and sprinkling over your senses until you are encased in their rosy film. 

You awkwardly bend your fingers as you feel yourself return to your body and you realize your eyes never left Kuvira’s hand. Astonished, you lift your gaze to meet hers as she stares back expectantly.

The words then cascade from your lips without hesitation, smooth like the waves that sweep across the coast. “Yes. Yes, Kuvira. A thousand times over, yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.” Everything sounds so much louder in your head, echoing in your mind and roaring in your ears. 

Her face instantly yields into expression of absolute awe, ultimately shaping into one of rapture. She releases a bated breath and closes her eyes momentarily before turning to you again, the edges brimming with the faintest dusting of tears. 

She stretches her arm forward so her hand touches yours. You spread your fingers and watch as Kuvira reverently slides the ring into place. For the first time since she presented it, you notice the striking attention to detail. It’s a slim silver band engraved with smooth strokes of grooves and spirals that overlap in ornate patterns. Upon closer inspection, you recognize the pandy lily inscribed at the center. It is not ostentatious — rather, it’s a beautiful display of artistry in a most polished fashion.

It’s a ring that perfectly captures Kuvira, as if the piece itself were an inanimate embodiment of her essence.

“I made it myself,” she discloses. “To be quite frank, I couldn’t trust anyone to make something worth offering you. I can’t say I feel this completely satisfies that either but it comes much closer.” 

It’s a confession that is so totally Kuvira that all you can do is throw your arms around her and bring your lips to hers. She cradles your face adoringly and when she pulls away, a murmured “I love you” washes over your face and you can do nothing else but echo the words against her mouth. 

[therealkrynnsub]

The Last Trial Retrospective

Song: Flee, My Brother

1. Notice the twin beginning between Caramon's "Стой, мой брат" and Raistlin's "Беги, мой брат." Here, for the first time (except, perhaps, since "Nightmares") Raistlin acknowledges Caramon as his brother in sincerity.

2. "Flee, My Brother"--

It is a poignant title. Raistlin is about to sacrifice himself so that he alone pays the price of his actions. But how could we replicate that sentiment in 4 syllables?

"My brother, flee" was obvious but just didn't cut it; the way that the notes were arranged it didn't sound natural.

Instead, we kept the title as "Flee, My Brother" and adjusted the first line as needed, while retaining "brother" in a different place:

Raistlin (Final Draft): "Get out of here. My brother, it's not too late."

*I also love how this is the anti-Lord of Nothing song. He is able to avert the destruction he caused as God in a timeline that never happened. Unlike in that song, this is not a hopeless "it's not too late yet."

3. "The stars went cold, I saw their light expire"

Such a chilling line.

Again, in THIS song "It's not too late yet to make the sun burn/ Banish the darkness, grant the stars' return."

4. "Вы победили, вы остались правы"

(Rough draft): "You've won the battle/ And your point's been proven."

Irina Kruglova asked us to rewrite this line so that everyone could tell that "You" specifically meant "You all." That's right--"Вы" is not just the formal "you" but also "you" plural. Who is it referring to? All of Raistlin's opponents who ever disputed his endeavor, including Takhisis.

Raistlin (Final draft): "You are the victors/ and your point's been proven."

5. "Без мира бог ничто, как мир без бога!"

This was written so simply in Russian.

Literally: "Without the world, God is nothing, as is the world without God."

It wasn't so easy, on the other hand, to rewrite into singable English. We went through several options:

"There's no God where there's no world, and conversely!"

"Without God, there's no world, and no world without God!"

"God's nothing with no world, as it is without him!"

"No God's where there's no world, no world's where there's no God!"

"God's nothing with no world, and vice versa."

Finally, we chose:

Raistlin (Final draft): "God's nothing with no world/ It's nothing without Him!"

6. Raistlin (Final Draft): "He shall not carry out this plan of ruin."

Note that we say "this" instead of "his." Raistlin was not planning to destroy everything.

7. Ни каяться, ни плакаться не буду

Не стоит поучать почти что бога:

Не извлечёт он должного урока,

Ему всего-то не хватило Чуда…

Ни каяться, ни плакаться не буду

(Raw translation):

I will neither repent, nor whine.

Preaching to an almost-God is pointless:

He will never learn a proper lesson,

What he lacked was simply a miracle…

I will neither repent, nor whine.

This was the most difficult stanza in the song.

For the first line we didn't want to use the not-so-pretty word "whine," even though we have this proud image of Raistlin refusing to pathetically make himself the victim in this song. That was even an option at one point: "I shan't repent, nor make myself the victim."

In that version, we rhymed with the last line in the stanza: "When he could master all but mere creation"

After changes to the stanza as a whole, the final draft became: Raistlin: "I shan't repent, nor wallow in self-pity."

8. Our thinking had been, at first, that Raistlin had come to terms with the fact that he could never be a proper god because he lacked something that couldn't be learned. Takhisis would have told him, "One who hasn't a heart cannot hope to create life" in "Lord of Nothing." But, no, he still doesn't get it (Maybe he still needs a couple decades in the Abyss to think about it.)

Irina broke the meaning down in plain English for us:

"I'm still far too great for you to teach me something I don't know

Your moralising is useless, especially now

I did everything right, it should have worked, yet the miracle didn't happen"

With that new understanding we were able to infuse the stanza with the bitter tone it needed:

Raistlin (Final Draft):

"I shan’t repent, nor wallow in self-pity/

I don't need your advice--your noble preaching/

How can a mortal teach a god perfection?/

What I was lacking yet remains a mystery/

I shan’t repent, nor wallow in self-pity"

9. "Не стоит поучать почти что бога"

Before we leave this stanza, let's take a moment to remember the pain of finding an English equivalent to saying "an almost-god" and making it sounded good sung. "Demi-god," though not entirely accurate, would have worked, if not for a strage pause:

Raistlin (Rough Draft): "All preaching at a de_mi god is futile"

We were going to imply it with more words:

Raistlin (Rough Draft): "It's useless, if one falls just short of Godhood."

We decided to instead show his incomplete otherness by separating him from what Caramon is ("how can a MORTAL") while also separating himself from perfection ("TEACH a God perfection?") After all, if Raistlin needs some higher being to teach him the meaning of a mystery, then he certainly isn't a fulfledged God yet. This phrasing also emphasizes how hurt he really is, and he can't help but to take it out on Caramon just a little bit.

10. The most recent version of this song includes new lyrics from Crysania that are tinged with sorrowful realization. Actually, I am surprised they added new lyrics seeing as the Alternate Finale hasn't been performed as part of the full staged production.

"А все-таки, как горько сознавать,

что сказка о красавице и монстре

осталась сказкой... И пускай непросто

чудовище в себе расколдовать -

и все-таки, как горько сознавать..."

(Raw translation)

"After all, it's so bitter to realize

That the fairy tale of the beauty and the beast remained only a fairy tale.

And though it's not easy to disenchant the beast inside yourself,

It is so bitter to realize..."

We could have repeated "At last I see" but we saw the opportunity to amplify that bitter realization by beginning her part with the conditional "Though now I see." We finish the song conclusively with "I finally see!" which is somehow more tragic than "At last I see."

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 285: You Looked Like You Needed Saving

Previously on BnHA: Deku was all, “hey guys I’m just gonna fight Tomura one on one and risk my own life rather than risk letting him do the whole Destroying Everything bit again.” Kacchan was all “WAIT NO ARE YOU SERIOUS THAT’S THE EXACT THING I HATE THE MOST” and indignantly launched into his “P.S. I CARE ABOUT DEKU” flashback, which was a revelation in that it proved exactly what Bakugou fans have been saying this whole time, AND YET OUR MINDS WERE STILL BLOWN ANYWAY, BECAUSE HOLY SHIT, HE REALLY WENT AND SAID IT OUT LOUD THOUGH. Anyway, so Deku’s strategy for defeating Tomura is to, you guessed it, break his fucking arms again; and meanwhile a frantic Katsuki is gearing up on the sidelines to do something really awesome and incredibly stupid, probably; and all in all it’s a pretty terrible situation our boys have found themselves in. Terrible for them, but GREAT for me, and I’ve never been so hyped in my life omg.

Today on BnHA: Deku breaks both of his arms like a dozen times over. Like, just pages and pages of arm breaking. Just like in the good old days! Meanwhile Kacchan is all “jesus christ, okay you know what would be a better idea, JUST SETTING HIM ON FIRE AGAIN”, and so he grabs Shouto and Endeavor, and they do a whole Prominence Burn combo thing. The AFO-inside-of-Tomura is all “‘sup it’s me again, but seriously now would be a REALLY good time to let me take over your body”, and so Tomura TOTALLY DOES LET HIM TAKE OVER, WHOOP, and so AFO is all “HELLS YEAH.” And then he STRAIGHT UP STABS MY SON, WHOSE BODY WAS SIMPLY MOVING ON ITS OWN, YOU KNOW, JUST HERO THINGS. Anyway so now Kacchan is fucking dead*, and so if I were AFO I would start putting as much distance as possible between myself and Deku right the fuck now, because boy, IF YOU THOUGHT HE WAS MAD BEFORE? Holy shit. We’re about to see a whole new level aren’t we.

LOL WE’RE OFF TO A GRAND OLD START

Deku’s arms should sue for legal emancipation. I think most of us can agree that they’re probably better off without him. sure they’ll have to buy their own food and stuff, but I think the trade-off is more than fair

oh wow that 100% shit really is something though

too bad it did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!! spoiler alert. I don’t even have to scroll to the next page, Deku. we already know

OH MY GOD ARE YOU SERIOUS

did Deku really pull off some “three hits in one” bullshit, or is this a mistranslation referring to the fact that Deku’s already hit him twice with his left arm, and so this is now the third 100% hit. kinda hoping for the latter, ngl. either way though, I’m really getting a “Deku’s arms are legitimately done for” vibe from this

ESPECIALLY SINCE:

DEKU YOU SHRUB!!! WAS IT WORTH IT YOU EGG FDKF KKDJ YOU DON’T GET BONUS POINTS FOR BREAKING THEM TWICE

goddammit I’m pretty sure he just Detroit Smashed the last remaining hero brain cell. now they have diddly squat to work with, oh this is bad

...

do you guys remember a few weeks back when I was joking about him breaking the rest of his bones and using Blackwhip to move his shattered body around like a grotesque marionette. do you specifically remember the part where that was a joke

holy shit Deku. it’s like we’re all the way back to square one with you. wasn’t that like the first thing Aizawa taught you, not to break your whole body apart? how are you supposed to fight Tomura if you can’t move?? why didn’t you wait for one of your pals who could hit him with an attack from long range WITHOUT BREAKING EVERY SINGLE BONE IN THEIR BODIES. WHERE DID YOUR BIG HERO BRAIN GO

boy you better pray one of those remaining quirks is a healing factor, or else you’re gonna be on IR for a LONG time. anyway. idk why I’m getting so worked up when I already knew this was going to happen lol. it’s just like Katsuki said; he takes himself out of the equation. it’s worth sacrificing his own body if it means he can take out AFO and prevent Tomura from hurting anyone else again. it’s just that... well. you know that saying about taking calculated risks when you are bad at math?

GUH I REALLY HATE THAT TOMURA IS STILL COMPLETELY FINE KSKWOILWKKJ AT LEAST PRETEND TO BE A LITTLE HURT, WOULD YOU

please ignore all of those worried-sounding thoughts; I think we all know that’s a bunch of bullshit. completely and utterly fine. the only person Deku’s attacks hurt was himself. hip hip hooray

anyway. so now, this!

pretty sure he can’t use Decay or AFO without at least touching SOMETHING, so I’m guessing this is another one of his new quirks. dammit Tomura why are you so fucking invincible

HAHAHA MEANWHILE

if I were you, Deku’s Arms, I would simply detach from his body altogether at this point. cut my losses. mmm

OOF HE HIT HIM WITH THE WHOLE OF TEXAS

spoiler alert: again, it did nothing. SORRY TO KEEP RUINING THE SUSPENSE FOR YOU GUYS. is there a single human being reading this who thought for even for the milliest of seconds that this stood a chance of working though

OH MY GOD

DEKU GET IT TOGETHER YOU’RE STARTING TO LOOK LIKE THE ENIGMA OF AMIGARA FAULT AND I CAN’T STAND THIS ACTUALLY

so Tomura is all “there must be something I can do to stop this fucking kid” and shuffling through his quirk pokedex while he’s tossed around bleeding in the air

hey Tomura I’ll tell you right now that you don’t actually need to do a damn thing except not die for roughly the next thirty seconds or so, and then you’ve got this. the quirk that can stop this kid is called “One for All”, and it just so happens he’s already got you covered bruh

and Katsuki’s realized the same thing, apparently!

SHOUTO YOU’RE NOT EVEN LOOKING?? wow that is some trust right there. focused on cauterizing Gran and Aizawa’s wounds, I guess

MEANWHILE KATSUKI IS PULLING OUT ALL THE STOPS. HE FOUND A NEW BRAIN CELL! A WHOLE DAMN CACHE OF FRESH NEW BRAIN CELLS, LOOK AT THIS

THANKS FOR THAT, PROFESSOR

OH SHIT SON ARE WE MOUNTING A COUNTERATTACK?

I like how Endeavor is just SITTING THERE in the background looking all disgruntled. yes, sorry about that sir, this is now Kacchan’s show. he’s in charge now. time for that long-range attack I was complaining about them not doing earlier?? hopefully?? omg

OH MY GOD YOU GUYS IT’S A BAKUROKI TRIPLE COMBO?!?!

ARE YOU GOING TO YEET THEM A LA GANG ORCA?? ALSO OH MY GOD, HE REALLY IS IN CHARGE. FIRST DEKU TOOK OVER FOR TWO MINUTES UNTIL HE BROKE ALL HIS BONES, AND NOW IT’S KACCHAN’S TIME. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU KIDS

LOL SHOUTO’S GETTING IN ON THIS TOO

THIS JUST IN, THE KIDS HAVE TAKEN OVER THE MANGA, ADULTS OF BNHA IN SHAMBLES

WELL MAYBE NEXT TIME DON’T LET AIZAWA GET SHOT THEN, YOU HAT!!!

WOOP OKAY WE FLYING NOW

Kacchan, tired of sitting back watching Deku invent new ways to die, decides to improvise a few of his own. hmmmmmmm

(ETA: HE LEARNED FROM THE BEST ORZ.)

OKAY WAIT A MINUTE NOW

why does this sound like he’s planning something on his own after the Todorokis have done their part. KACCHAN. EXCUSE ME, KACCHAN

SDLFKJLKJLJ

OKAY HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE

IS THIS LEADING WHERE I THINK IT’S LEADING, HOLY --

-- ooOF

I WASN’T FUCKING READY FOR THAT ONE. BAKUBULLYING FROM HIS OWN NOW-REMORSEFUL POV. SHIT. FUCKING FELT THAT. HERE I THOUGHT YOU WERE BUILDING UP TO AN “ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL” REVEAL, AND THEN YOU GO AND PULL THAT INSTEAD, WHAT’S GOING ON

-- HOLD UP WE’RE NOT DONE WITH THIS ONE YET MAYBE!!

“ONE FOR ALL IS”??!? KDSLFJAKLSJLKJLKJL AND THEN INTERRUPTING ME WITH THE CUTE BABIES WATCHING THE ALL MIGHT FOOTAGE, OH MY GOD. I’M JUST WILDLY REACTING TO EVERYTHING THAT’S BEING THROWN AT ME RIGHT NOW LMAO I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE THIS IS LEADING

OOF THE NOTEBOOK

KACCHAN THIS ISN’T EVEN YOUR MEMORY HONEY, GET IT TOGETHER

OH MY GLOB

THIS IS THE MOST NONSENSICAL SEQUENCE OF PANELS RIGHT NOW. I’M SURE THIS IS ALL SHORTLY GOING TO COME TOGETHER IN SOME PROFOUND WAY THAT’S GOING TO KICK MY EMOTIONS SQUARE IN THE BALLS, BUT RIGHT NOW I’M JUST ALL “OOH AHH” LIKE SOME HAPLESS RUBE ALONG FOR THE RIDE. p.s. this chapter still doesn’t have a title!! p.p.s. Horikoshi is a knave

(ETA: HORIKOSHI IS A FUCKING MALFEASANT!!)

I CAN’T TAKE THIS??

PLEASE STOP BUILDING UP TO WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE BUILDING UP TO AND JUST SAY IT ALREADY, I’M DYING OMG

...and we’re cutting back to the action. godfuckingdammit it’s gonna be one of those chapters where the entire thing is just buildup to some huge reveal on the very last page isn’t it

(ETA: [sounds of screaming heard in the distance])

anyway so this next page is just Deku flying in the air, and Tomura flying through the air, and Endeavor+Katsuki+Shouto flying through the air, and everyone’s flying through the air, and we’re all just flying. TALK TO ME MORE ABOUT THE CURSE OF OFA DAMN IT

OOHHHHHH

guess if it was good enough for Hood, it’s probably their best shot huh. better than whatever the fuck Deku was trying to pull at any rate

OOP

gotta admit, if I didn’t already know full well that Tomura could not possibly die here, I’d have been pretty convinced he was dying here lol

DSFKJL ENDEAVOR BUDDY YOU MIGHT HAVE POSSIBLY OVERDONE IT JUST A BIT

wait... is that Blackwhip...?? or???

OH SHIT

WHAT EVEN IS THIS CHAPTER, COME ON

-- FMMMJAKAKJDJL, UM

TIME TO SCROLL BACK UP TO THAT PANEL OF TOMURA BEING MELTED, AND READ WHAT AFO WAS SAYING A LITTLE MORE CAREFULLY LMAOOOO. LOL. WHOOPS. OH NO KATSUKI WHAT HAVE YOU DONE

AHHHHHHHH

WHAT’S WITH THE NARRATION SQUARE ALL OF A SUDDEN AHHHHHH

oh my fresh and citrusy lord. this is it isn’t it. all of my theories converge at once. Tomura being possessed by AFO; OFA is AFO/Deku has AFO; Katsuki does something stupid and loses his quirk. THE PERFECT STORM. THEORY SINGULARITY

oh my lord oh my god oh my lord oh my god honey what are you doing, honey, no

his body’s moving before he can think. WHAT ARE THESE FLASHBACKS OF ALL HIS DEKU RELATED MEMORIES. BULLYING DEKU, BEING SAVED FROM THE SLUDGE MONSTER, RECONCILING WITH HIM AT GROUND BETA, OH MY GOD. I’M NOT READY. [WRAPS MYSELF IN A BLANKET BURRITO AND SLOWLY SCROLLS DOWN FROM THE SAFETY OF MY COCOON]

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HORIKOSHI KOUHEI: [LOADS GUN WITH CHAPTER TITLE AND AIMS DIRECTLY FOR MY HEART]

ME: [SWEATING]

HORIKOSHI: [SMILES, REACHES FOR THE TRIGGER... AND THEN SUCKER PUNCHES ME SQUARE IN THE FACE]

excuse me WHAT. PARDON, THE FUCK. WHY ARE THE FIRST FEW LONE PIANO NOTES OF ADELE’S “SKYFALL” PLAYING. WHAT THE FUCK

excuse me, Horikoshi. excuse me, could I just -- could I get. COULD I JUST GET A WORD WITH YOU FOR A MINUTE. SIR

son of a. ...how am I even supposed to wrap this up. just

sob okay. so let’s just. ...

All for One 100% just took Tomura’s body over. like, he was all “Tomura, you’re fucking dying, just give me your body you muppet”, and Tomura couldn’t really argue on account of he really was dying, and so, YOINK. which is the sound that a body makes when it’s being taken over, I think

All for One then activated his forced activation quirk?? which OF FUCKING COURSE he passed on to Tomura as well. so THAT’S JUST GREAT

Kacchan is seriously the fastest character in the series. the reflexes, the sheer speed necessary to intercept that hit? goddamn

every single one of those BakuDeku flashbacks are now wanted by the FBI for first-degree murder of me

this has nothing to do with Kacchan fucking dying and stuff, but is it just me or were there HUGE “Kacchan as Bakugou’s hero name” vibes earlier on in this chapter with the flashbacks to Deku explaining the meaning behind his own name, HMM

and speaking of, this is the first time we’ve gotten Kacchan narrating in the little box panels, unless I’m completely mistaken somehow. Horikoshi really waited almost 300 whole chapters to do that. and it was worth it. holy shit

fun fact, this moment is something that’s been on my wishlist since chapter 12 lol, you can go back and check the recap if you want. back then I called it a long shot. oh how the times have changed

I DON’T KNOW HOW I’M EVEN SO STUNNED ABOUT THIS, GUYS. this is exactly what I predicted at the end of the last chapter. MY CHILD IS DUMB. THAT’S ALL THERE IS TO IT. HE’S THAT EXACT KIND OF SHOUNEN DUMB. WE’VE KNOWN IT ALL ALONG

oh my god. and now Deku’s gonna go ham, arms or no arms. AND BETS ON WHICH NEW QUIRK HE’S ABOUT TO UNLOCK? because the last time someone so much as insulted Kacchan in his presence, he SPONTANEOUSLY GREW SHADOW TENTACLES OUT OF THE BLUE AND ATTEMPTED TO MURDER THE PERSON. so if this kid has got ANYTHING left up his sleeve, I have to imagine that SEEING HIS PRECIOUS CHILDHOOD FRIEND TAKE A DEADLY ATTACK MEANT FOR HIM is gonna leave him feeling SOME KINDA WAY. I literally have no idea what’s going to happen next but I would not count this angry little broccoli out yet. not as long as he’s still conscious

anyway. so I wonder what’s the world record for continuous screaming, and whether or not I could break said record by doing such nonstop from now until a week from now when I finally get to read the next chapter

...lol apparently the record is only 8 mins and 45 seconds so GOOD NEWS GUYS, WITH THE POWER OF THIS NEW CHAPTER, WE ARE GOING TO MAKE HISTORY. DEEP BREATH. -- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[writingbakery]

Oh my god I freaking love aus,, do you?? So,, may I request hcs for um, Denki and Shoto (sorry if you only accept one character)?? With a royal au? You can decide the reader and their caste or job or whatever.. thank you!! I love your writing so far!

[hello bb anon! i 1000% ADORE AU’s! they’re some of my favorite things to write if i’m honest!

a royal au sounds lovely, & i hope these hc’s fulfill your wishes! thank you so much for requesting! 💓]

“A Taste Of Royalty”

[Knight!Kaminari & Prince!Todoroki hc’s, with gender neutral! reader💓]

Knight! Kaminari Denki

as a commoner in the kingdom, you don’t really interact with royalty much.

you’re a simple crafter, selling your wares in the market every morning & retreating to your little cottage to tinker in your garden in the evenings.

you’re arranging your wares on the little clothed table under your seller’s tent when someone crashes into you full force, sending you both flying

for a moment you’re completely dazed, blinking away the dizziness as you sit up on the remains of your - shattered! - table & crafts

there’s fast waving hands in your face immediately, concerned golden eyes meeting yours as the cause for all this mess squats down in front of you

“are you alright? i’m terribly sorry, but that man was going to rob you! and in broad daylight no less, the scoundrel!” the criminal in question is unconscious on the ground next to you, and your heart races a little at the awful thought of him hurting you

“well now there really isn’t anything to rob me of, is there?” you joke, gesturing to all the ruined wares around you, and your “hero” is immediately stumbling over himself to apologize red-faced

you learn his name - sir kaminari denki, third knight to the ever irritable king bakugo and apparently one of the most gifted swordsmen in the knighthood (shocker, huh?)

he ends up buying all the shattered pieces despite your protests, insisting that it was the least he could do as he pressed the gold into your hands

he becomes a regular patron of your little market table, stopping by every morning without fail to purchase a trinket or two and press a warm pastry into your hands - “i could never allow my favorite merchant to go hungry, now could i? how unknightly!”

he takes to walking you home in the evenings as well, to ward off any other potential robbers - or so he says, ears dusted pink as he fiddles with his scabbard

even once you’ve arrived home he lingers, leaning over your back fence to chat your ear off with all his castle adventures as you tend to your garden

you never mind his near-constant presence, however; it’s adorable how he trails at your heels like an excited puppy

you also can’t deny your own growing feelings for the energetic blonde, he’s just... well. handsome, brave, spirited, kind, everything

but with the realization that your feelings are changing, so comes the realization that the two of you come from vastly different worlds.

you were just a simple commoner, and denki was third in waiting to the king! the king!

still, you couldn’t help but indulge yourself in his company, even if you knew your feelings were irrational

he’s the one to make the first move of course, his overly energetic attitude pushing him to confess one misty morning

when you arrive to the market you find denki already there, sheepishly hugging a bouquet of bright wildflowers to his chest in full knights’ attire

(he’d spent four hours scrubbing his armor just to impress you)

he immediately launches into a half hour spiel about his feelings for you, tackily comparing “your smile to a midsummers sweet rain” - so he’d read a little poetry to prepare, he was in love!

you can barely get a word in as he rambles, his nerves shining through as he twists his hands - he’d been wringing the flowers half to death before you’d rescued them from his iron grip

you’re trying to be patient and hear him out, but god does kaminari talk - he’s so wrapped up in his own anxious word vomit that he looks like he might just faint

you take pity on the mess of a knight in front of you, stepping forward to press a gentle kiss to his flushed cheek

“i know. now can you help me set out this basket?” you ask, a hint of a laugh to your words as you tuck one of the wildflowers behind his ear

the poor knight can barely speak, mouth open so comically that you give in and laugh, patting his chin.

“come along, sir lovestruck. assist me with this and we’ll collect pastries for this evening.”

he almost trips over himself rushing to help you, but he’s smiling so wide you don’t think he even noticed.

“that’s sir lovestruck, third in waiting to you, darling!”

Prince! Todoroki Shoto

as the castle’s head tutor for the arts, you’re used to dealing with royalty

you took your job as royal tutor extremely seriously, despite the subjects being deemed less important to some of the nobles

however, you don’t always get along with your “students” - most of the royals you taught were your own age or older, and they were awfully spoiled

the only one you could truly say you liked & were friends with, not just tolerating, was the crown prince

he had a notorious reputation for being cold and impassive, never speaking more than a few words & only when absolutely needed, but you knew him as a much different person

in fact, the only time he was ever cold to you was your very first meeting. you’d sat in the royal library for an hour waiting, a little panicked - you’d never tutored someone so very important, the prestige on his shoulders immense

when he finally arrives there’s a bruise decorating his jaw, and an absolutely chilling look in his eyes - your nerves are steadily growing by the second

but then he simply sits down across from you at the table, his stoic expression never leaving. “i apologize for keeping you waiting. Father insisted on extra swordfighting lessons.”

his voice is so calm and monotone, almost as though he’s barely even present, and yet his eyes remain locked on yours, never flinching away

“a-are.. are you alright? would you like me to fetch you some ice? here, the lesson can wait-“ immediately you’re up out of your chair and fussing over him, dabbing at a cut just under his eye and shoto is ... well he’s confused.

he’s not used to people caring for him in such a way, especially not strangers he’d just met a few minutes prior

the entirety of your first “lesson” was spent patching him up, your easy chattering filling the silence between the pair of you. you told him all about where you’d lived in the kingdom, and how you’d gotten such a position, all while he sat and allowed you to tend to his minor wounds.

his silence didn’t bother you, even when his next three lessons passed in a similar quiet - you could tell he was listening, and he always gave some sort of physical cue that he was following along, a more tranquil look settling onto his features as time went on.

little by little, he starts opening up - a quick snippet of his day, a smile at one of your silly jokes. he’s no prince charming, but he’s certainly not the robot that the kingdom makes him out to be - he just needs a little encouragement!

soon, the two of you are thick as theives, sneaking around the castle when shoto’s meant to be having archery lessons, stealing mince pies from the kitchen when the head chef isn’t looking. you’re partners in crime, much to the disdain of his father, and before you can stop yourself you’re head over heels for the crown prince.

oh right. the crown prince. who would eventually ascend to the throne and marry some faraway princess for power, or land. not you.

you try your best to bury the emotions deep within your chest, but shoto’s nothing if not painfully observant. he can see you shying away, becoming more reserved, not allowing yourself to indulge in the daydreams of your heart.

he’s a bit oblivious, so he doesn’t know why you’re pulling away honestly. he knows his own feelings from you have long since passed friendly, despite his father’s complete disdain for you

he may have had a shouting match in the throne room with king endeavor, making him swear he wouldn’t relieve you of your post or have you sent away - so the man keeps his distance despite his disapproval

still, it takes an overly flirtatious stable boy for shoto to finally confess his feelings for you

you’d both been planning a quiet horse ride towards the meadows, content to enjoy each other’s company as you enjoyed the day. however, one of the new stable boys has much... different notions.

“you’ve chosen a lovely steed! not quite so lovely as yourself, however!”

he’s so busy trying to charm the pants off you that he doesn’t even realize the crown prince is right behind him, staring daggers into his skull. if looks could kill, shoto would’ve been a murderer that day.

“i do not believe we require your services further.” his voice is uncharacteristically cold - downright frosty, and the stable boy is gone before the pale on his cheeks properly sets in.

you’re not used to such behavior from shoto, especially not when he hauls you up on his horse in front of him. “one horse is more efficient,” is all he says as he grips the reigns, arms encircling your waist.

you’re blushing without even realizing, leaning back against him as he spurs the horse on. “if you wanted me all to yourself, you simply could have asked,” you tease in an effort to hide your flustered expression.

he’s silent for a moment, and you fear you’ve gone too far before he speaks.

“well. i suppose i am asking. stay with me?”

needless to say, your afternoon in the meadow was peppered with sweet laughter and even sweeeter kisses.

[hope you enjoyed! 💓 feedback is always appreciated!]